


The Thread of Ariadne

by Lizardbeth



Series: Not All That We Are [3]
Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe, Cylons, F/M, Novel, Season/Series 03, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-21
Updated: 2009-11-22
Packaged: 2017-10-03 13:09:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 63,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizardbeth/pseuds/Lizardbeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With New Caprica now behind them, both sides struggle to find the right path. Sam recovers from his ordeal at Cylon hands, while his visions insist that his destiny is tied to the Cylons and Earth. When the gods give Kara proof that her faith is not in vain, she plans to keep her promise and rescue Sam. They both dream of meeting again, but the truth may be more than either of them can bear.</p><p>Third in the "Not All That We Are" series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Where the Lion Leads

**Author's Note:**

> **Previous stories:** _Not All That We Are_ and _At the Labyrinth Gates_. Both together are about half of this one, so there's not that much to catch up on before you start.
> 
> **Note:** This AU series was begun and planned before S. 4. Although I've incorporated some of what we learned and major events remain parallel, this is an entirely separate mythology and history. This is an AU that breaks off with the Miniseries, although the changes are certainly accelerating with this installment.
> 
> Thank you to Greycoupon and Sabaceanbabe for beta duty. Written for the BSG Big Bang 2009.
> 
> **Warning**: contains one scene of torture (in flashback) and some rather brutal imagery

Sam stared at the lion sitting on the floor beside the bed. It blinked its eyes and shook out its mane, and Sam let out a groan. He turned his head and closed his eyes, then looked again, hoping it would be gone. Of course, it was still there.

"Come on," he hissed at it. "Come on. Stand up! Show me Earth, you stupid frakking thing. You're just sitting there! I know you know the way, so tell me!"

He raised his voice at the end, but the lion yawned, showing really big teeth and a long rolling tongue, to demonstrate how little it cared about Sam's frustration.

Then it laid its head down on its front paws to sleep.

"No, don't you dare!" Sam snarled. "You show me the way, right frakking now!"

"Sam?"

He whirled, heart leaping at the sudden voice, to see Thea frowning in concern at him from the doorway.

Startlement turned instantly to embarrassment as he realized what he looked like. "I - uh, hey. I was just..." he trailed off and let out a sigh, admitting, "talking to my imaginary friend."

Her lips curled in a smile. "Sam -- "

"I know, I know," he cut in. "I'm hallucinating. It's not really there. Shouting at it makes me look crazy. Crazier," he amended with a glance at the now-empty floor.

"You are not crazy," she said tartly, crossing to him. "It's a vision," she reminded him. "It's the path to Earth."

He snorted. "It's a frakking lion that sits on the floor. Oh, and did I mention, _no one else can see it_?" he added, irritated.

She laughed. "You're on a Cylon ship. Most of the people you talk to are seeing things that aren't there."

He frowned, having no idea what she was talking about. "What?"

"Cylons project," she told him. "Think of it as a persistent daydream. We can see our surroundings as we choose. It helps us navigate around the ship and generally makes things more to our taste."

"Oh? So what do you see right now?"

"Forest," she answered. "A green forest with tall trees and golden sunlight slanting through the leaves..." She looked around with a half-smile, as if she could see the trees. "I - and most Sixes - prefer to surround myself with the wonders of nature." Her gaze returned to him and her smile widened again, as she trailed her fingers down his arm. "And you."

He blinked, wondering. Was that was the lion was? Was he projecting it, as a Cylon? Or was he just frakked in the head?

She interrupted his musing, "I think, if it was going to talk, it would have already. So it's probably a riddle."

"A riddle?" That was not what he wanted to hear. Why couldn't he just **see** the frakking path? Why did the gods have to make things so damned difficult? "Frak. Thea, I'm a ball player. I'm lucky I can name all twelve colonies and their capitals, and that's only because I used to play there. I don't solve riddles or do crossword puzzles or things like that."

She shook her head at him, frowning in disapproval but with a glint of amusement in her eyes. "That can't be true. I'm not the pyramid expert that Caprica is, but even I know Samuel T. Anders graduated university before turning pro."

That she wasn't playing along made him grumpy, and he turned away, folding his arms. "I don't like riddles," he muttered. "I want answers."

She chuckled and wrapped her arms around his waist, snuggling up behind him. "Good thing you have me, then, isn't it?" She kissed the bare skin of his shoulder, then instead of stopping there, she nipped across toward his neck, while her hands slid down his sides. "Mm, you taste good," she murmured, her lips making a little heated trail on his neck.

"Thea, we need to figure out the damn lion," he protested, taking hold of her hands in his. He knew where her hands were likely to wander and her touch was hard enough to resist already.

She somehow managed to slip her fingers under his shirt, despite his hands holding hers across his stomach. "Later. I'm busy."

"Thea. Lion," he tried to remind her. But she sucked on that place under his ear that made heat spark through him, and nothing else seemed important. He turned to catch her mouth with his, giving in eagerly.

When she pulled back, her expression was smug, as she licked her lips. "You're right, we should focus on the lion."

He yanked his hands away from her and glared at her for being such a tease, but she laughed and patted his chest to pacify him. "Later. We should get Leoben to help us. The Twos interpret the Hybrid all the time."

"The hybrid?" he asked, frowning. "Hera?"

She shook her head. "No, not that kind of hybrid. The Hybrid is the ... mind and heart of the ship. She operates the ship; she **is** the ship, in a real sense. But her reality isn't ours and even though she speaks all the time, what she says sounds like complete nonsense. But the Twos manage to pull some meaning out of it. He understood what she told him about you. That's how we knew you were alive, after the Ones showed us the corpse we thought was you."

For just a moment, her eyes flickered with remembered horror and grief, and he realized how deeply the sight had struck her.

But he was interested more in the other part of her words. "And she - the Hybrid - told Leoben about me? What did she say?" Sam asked, trying to sound curious, and not worried. What did she know?

"That you were alive, but in trouble. Something about a fish. So if Leoben understood that, he might be able to figure out what your imaginary friend means."

He tried to hide his relief. "All right, that sounds like a good plan," he agreed with a nod. "And get Sharon in here, too. I don't want her or the Eights to feel left out."

She hesitated. "Anyone else?" He knew exactly who she meant and shook his head. Pressing her lips together, she touched his arm. "She found you and moved the consensus."

He shook her off. "D'Anna can go to hell."

"I know she hurt you, Sam, but without her, you'd probably still be in that hole, or dead."

He folded his arms and shook his head. "She did this to me. She **broke** something, Thea. She forced the vision, and now it's not... right. I'm not right."

She squeezed his shoulder in sympathy, but didn't argue about that. She said instead, "Caprica shot one of them in the head to rescue you. You're going to have to be the one to bend. If you shut them out, they'll turn against us again, and we need their support. We can't do this alone."

"We can," he insisted stubbornly. "We don't need them."

"Maybe we could get to Earth on our own," she allowed after a moment, "but why would we want to? You can't tell me you went through all that just for a few of us; you're here for all of us, Sam. All of us, even the ones doing their best to make you hate them."

She was right, but he didn't want her to be right. He didn't want to have to put aside his anger to take all the Cylons to Earth, because they didn't frakking **deserve** it.

He subsided into angry obstinacy. "I... don't want to see her." But he was giving in, and they both knew it.

"I understand," she soothed, and clasped his waist in her hands. "You'll be safe, I promise - and a lot safer if you keep her and the Fours on our side."

He hid his face in her hair, inhaling the clean lavender scent of her shampoo, and wrapped his arms around her. "Not Cavil or Doral. I ... don't know what I'd do." He hated to admit to the weakness, but his heart was pounding in his chest just from the memory of their faces, and he desperately didn't want to see them in person or listen to their voices yet.

"The Fives seem chastened," she said, rubbing one hand up and down his back. "They don't like you much, but they don't like being on the outside either. So there are a few of them here, but they've said they'll stay out of the way."

"And Cavil?" he asked, still tense. Funny, for someone who hadn't hurt him, the thought of Cavil anywhere near him was making him queasy.

"They're gone," she answered.

He wanted to be relieved, but anxiety still knotted his insides. "Just like that?" he asked, disbelieving. "He hates me."

"We know," she said. "That's why the consensus forced all of the Ones off this ship. They called us fools, but they went."

But it wasn't that much of a relief to know there were no Ones on this baseship, when there were plenty more of them on other ships. "They're going to plot against me."

"They didn't seem too bothered to leave, but my sisters will watch him," she reassured him. "The Ones lied to the consensus, something no Cylon should be able to do, so no one trusts them right now. He can't hurt you if he's not here." She lifted her head to kiss him lightly. "Do you want to bring the rest in?"

"No, I don't want D'Anna in here," he said right away, filled with revulsion at the thought of her stepping foot in the room where he slept. He needed some place safe from her, even if that safety was an illusion. "The control room is fine."

Returning to the control room reminded him of when the Centurions had come for him, but he resolutely pushed it away to walk through the room. Caprica was there and she smiled to see him. "You look better."

"I feel better, thank you." He touched her shoulder. "Thea told me about what you did on New Caprica for me. Again."

Her smile faded and she glanced at the entrance, as if to check if any Threes were there, but she answered firmly, "It had to be done."

There was already an Eight in the room, but Sharon came in, with Leoben beside her.

Simon entered, the first time Sam had seen one of the Fours since he'd been taken. Sam took a deep breath, reminding himself that the Fours had voted to imprison him, but they had done nothing to him personally and they had agreed to leave New Caprica. Nonetheless he waited to speak until Simon had approached, not knowing what to say. He didn't even know if calling him Simon would be correct, so he just said, "Hello."

Simon nodded to him once. "Anders." His eyes narrowed as he looked at Sam. "You look unwell."

"I... I'm recovering," he answered, surprising himself with the honesty when he'd intended to say he was all right.

"Good. It was never our intention that the others hurt you," he declared, "only remove your influence. But since it seems you influence us in even worse ways from captivity, it's pointless to try again."

Sam wasn't sure that was an apology or just an acknowledgement that the plan had gone pear-shaped, but Sam decided to take what he could get, and nodded. "Thank you. And I know you have trouble believing I'm telling the truth about what I know. I would, in your shoes -- which I'm actually standing in, so thanks for that, too," he said with a bit of a smile. He was going to add more, but the click of heels on the deck in the corridor outside wiped the thought from his head.

He glanced around to see D'Anna in the doorway. She paused there, no doubt feeling the same buzz of tension that Sam did, as everyone in the room looked at her. Thea moved closer to him, so he could feel her arm against his as a warm reminder of where he was.

Sam swallowed and wished D'Anna had worn something not white. But at least she wasn't one of the ones who had been there to hurt him. Keeping Thea's words in mind, he decided to make the first move. "D'Anna." And he took a breath and added, "Thank you for taking me from that pit." He clenched his jaw to stop saying anything more.

D'Anna's eyes scanned the room, lighting on Caprica, who returned her stare defiantly, and then set on him as she came nearer. "I understand you intend to share your vision of the path with us?" she asked. "The one my sisters helped you find, or a new one?"

His hands curled into fists, and only Thea's fingers slipping over his hand and holding tight stopped him from speaking the furious words that bubbled up. He clenched his jaw and answered flatly, "The one your sisters tortured out of me."

She hesitated, as if surprised Sam was still angry about that, even though it had been only a few days ago. "If you'd had the vision before, we wouldn't have had to resort to other measures. But you were blocking that knowledge from yourself. We helped you release it." Her gaze slid up and down his body and she observed with a bit of a smirk, "You seem at least as recovered as my sisters, who suffered death and resurrection for you."

He was going to snarl at her how the two things were not the same at all, but Thea intervened. "We're here to hear the details of Sam's vision, and help him interpret it. Sam, why don't you go ahead and tell us everything you remember about what you saw?"

Looking away from D'Anna and fixing his gaze on the falling datastream curtain, Sam took a deep breath. The Cylons fell silent, listening. "It started in the darkness. Like being blind. I felt something at my side. I held on, and it led me from the dark into a corridor of a baseship. I looked down and saw I was clutching the mane of a large lion. It led me into a control room just like this one, except there was a huge window right there," he pointed to the opposite wall, "and through the window I could see Earth. We have to follow the lion to Earth. I know that. What I don't know is what the lion means or how to follow it."

"You're sure it was Earth?" Sharon asked.

He nodded once. "I've seen it before."

"What does it look like?" Caprica asks, curiously.

"It's beautiful," he answers, softly, seeing it in his memory again. "Blue and white and green.... Like Picon from space, but different. I see it, and I know it's home."

Thea prompted, "Tell them the rest."

Reluctantly, he added, "I've been seeing the same lion since I woke up." He looked around and shrugged a bit. "I know it's not real, but that doesn't seem to stop me from seeing it. But it doesn't do anything; it just sits on the floor and blinks at me and sleeps a lot. I think it's a side-effect of the neural thingy, but I don't know for sure."

"You will lead the Cylon to Earth, and the lion will show you the way," Leoben said. He had his arms folded, and was listening with a look of curiosity and satisfaction. But then, he'd given a lot to the belief that Sam was an oracle, so Sam supposed being proven right was a vindication. "That much is obvious."

"But what could the lion represent?" Caprica mused. "Leonis? Maybe there was a clue left there, like the Arrow in Delphi?"

"There are bronze lions at most temples of Zeus," Sharon suggested.

"And ancient ones at the Delphi museum, supposedly from Kobol, if I remember right," Thea said.

"There were live lions at the Caprica City zoo," Simon offered.

"They're not alive anymore, are they?" the other Eight scoffed. "It can't be so literal. There's a lion sacrificed in Killandris' opera about the war of the gods. Some people think it represents Athena's death so maybe we should be thinking about Athena, Sharon Agathon, not the mythical one."

Sam wandered away from the group, knowing they were all wrong, but having no idea of the actual answer. He trailed the tip of his finger through the liquid in the datafont, wondering if he could use it. It felt a little thicker than water, and was warm and tingled on his skin.

"It started in the dark, you said," D'Anna's voice sounded very close to him, and he yanked his hand away, startled by her nearness. His gaze snapped up to find her across the datafont. "Like space."

He answered, trying to keep his voice level, "It was just very dark. There were no stars."

"But still, it seems more likely to me that what we want is here, in space, not back on the Colonies."

"I guess."

She frowned at him. "You need another vision."

His stomach tightened, and he thought he was going to throw up. "No, I don't. Not your way." Abruptly anger boiled over and he hissed at her, "You broke it. I don't know what it means because you forced it."

She didn't seem bothered by his sudden temper. "Or you don't understand it, because you need practice," she retorted. "Or maybe some of that herb the oracles use -- chamalla, is it?"

"You don't know what the frak you're talking about." He turned away, to find the others were watching him.

"You need clarity," Leoben observed. "Perhaps a visit to the Hybrid would help."

"No, what I **need** is for everyone to stop telling me what I need," he snapped. "Gods, I just wanted some help to figure this out. It's a lion - and no, it's not a dead lion in a zoo, or a bronze lion on Picon, or the frakking Golden Lions pyramid team, all right? We have to follow it to Earth, not go find it. That means it's here."

No one spoke for a moment after his outburst, and he folded his arms, thinking wistfully of pyramid. Throwing the ball at the goal was easy to understand, and he could get better at it with practice. But there was nothing definable about this oracle business, like playing pyramid in the dark.

"Maybe it's a star," Sharon suggested. "Leonis was named for a constellation. Maybe we have to figure out what stars were in it."

"We have the image from Kobol, maybe we can figure out a star in old Leonis and go there," Thea said, excitedly, and started to put her hand in the datafont, until Leoben spoke.

"Leo," Leoben corrected. "It was called Leo. The star patterns from the tomb on Kobol are as seen from Earth - they're not going to match anything until we get much closer to Earth."

"It must be some other kind of lion then," Thea said. "I'll check the database for lion references."

"We can make a list," Sharon agreed. "And see if something jumps out at you," she told Sam.

Sharon and Thea both slipped a hand into the datafont.

D'Anna muttered drily, "Are you sure you don't want to try a hallucinogen? It might be more useful than this."

He snickered, and then felt disloyal to Thea and looked away from D'Anna, resolutely not amused.

Later, after dinner, a four-page list of lion references, and several fruitless conversations about where they should go, he sat heavily on the bed. "D'Anna's right about one thing. I need another vision. Is there chamalla on this ship?"

Thea glanced at him in surprise and dismay. "No. You said chamalla nearly killed you last time."

"I took too much. But a little won't hurt." When she looked as if she might be wavering, he added, "I don't know how else to get a vision that might help us."

Her eyes searched his for a lie, but not seeing one, she nodded reluctantly. "All right, just a little," she agreed. "Tomorrow. For now," she straddled his legs and looked down into his face, "I have something else in mind. Remember I said later? Well, it's later." She pulled off her tank top and grinned at him. "Do you see a vision yet?" she teased, and then gave him a slow lingering kiss. "How about now?"

"Mm, I think it's getting a little clearer." His hands caressed her bare back, and her lips came down on his again, as she squirmed around on his lap.

He fell backward, pulling her, laughing, down on top of him.

But she wasn't enough to keep the nightmares away.

... _He's in a small, bright white coffin with a transparent lid. Cavil stands above him, smiling with sheer sadistic pleasure... Sam pounds on the lid with his fists, as the space shrinks, smaller and smaller, and steals his air_...

* * *

**On to Chapter Two: A Ray of Hope**


	2. A Ray of Hope

Thea woke, becoming quickly aware of the gasping breaths and shaking of the bed. She turned to find Sam, flat on his back, all tangled in the sheet in the middle of another nightmare.

She gripped his shoulder and shook him once. "Sam, wake up. It's a dream."

He jerked and drew in harsh pants as if he'd been suffocating. He stared blankly up at the ceiling, trembling. "It's okay," she whispered, caressing the side of his face. "Sam. You're here, you're safe."

He turned toward her and clutched at her, as if looking for solid ground. He shut his eyes, but not before she had seen the raw fear still there. Her touch was gentle, running her fingers through his damp hair and down his back, as she murmured to him. Eventually it worked, and she soothed him back to sleep.

But her anger kept her awake. Her brothers and sisters had done this: Ones, Fives, and Threes had taken this strong man and broken him, and she was never going to forgive them for it. But even her anger at them was a pale shadow of her feelings for him. The others saw only the prophet, but she knew him. She loved him, all of him, from the way he felt under her hands to the way he rolled his eyes when someone was being stupid. And because she loved him, she was afraid of these persistent nightmares that tore at his sleep. She was afraid the plan for him to take chamalla would go terribly wrong.

She lay sleepless beside him, projecting her usual serene forest, but it didn't help.

Fear fluttered in her stomach at the thought of his death or worse. Chamalla was potent, and she had read stories of oracles who fell into their visions and never came out.

But she had to let him follow his path; that was the worst part. She loved him but she couldn't protect him. The best she could do, it seemed, was try to keep him together and pray that God would spare him from further suffering.

She listened to his quiet breathing and kissed his cheek and shoulder, feeling an upwelling of love for him, an almost physical wave rising in her heart and the pit of her stomach and spreading through her body like a beam of light, shining through her whole body and making tears spring to her eyes at the sudden outpouring of emotion.

It faded after a moment, but didn't quite go away, and she stared at Sam's unconscious face. "What have you done to me?" she whispered in wonder.

Her fingers rested on the cord of the dog tags he wouldn't remove, and for the first time, she didn't feel jealous or want to take them off. Beyond that new acceptance, she felt as if she'd just... grown.

Something had changed in her. She had taken another step on her own journey. Wherever Sam was leading her, it felt... wonderful.

 

* * *

Sam took a pinch of the powder and put it on his tongue. The acrid bitterness made his face twist up and he coughed. "Gods, that stuff tastes worse than I remember." Water did little to chase the aftertaste away.

Thea watched him carefully, a little curious but mostly in concern. When nothing happened and he reached for more, she pulled the bag out of his reach. "No. That's enough. Whether you get a vision or not, no more."

He sat back in the chair, put his palms flat on the table, and waited. After a few minutes of silence, he smiled awkwardly at her. "Nothing. This was a waste of time."

Pushing back his chair, he stood up.

And his surroundings shifted.

_He was outside on the surface of a planet. The sky was a deep blue with fluffy white clouds, and he stood in a wide, damp meadow, with green hills on the horizon all around. The sun was warm on his back and head as he stood there, and he could hear the sound of wings flapping above him._

He glanced up to see a white bird flying high in the sky and turned to follow its path. When his gaze came back down, he saw Kara. She was wearing a C-Bucs warm-up jacket over her BDUs, and it gave him a pang of nostalgia for when they'd been on Caprica. "Kara!" He grinned at her and took two steps closer, intending to grab her in his arms and kiss her until neither of them could breathe.

She looked annoyed and stayed where she was. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Startled by the cool reception, he stopped. "I -- Kara? I'm looking for the path to Earth."

She folded her arms and gave him Kara's disgruntled glare. "I gave you all you need."

At which point he realized she wasn't 'his' Kara at all, but that vision he'd seen before in the cell.

He snorted. "The lion? You gave me the lion? What the frak does that mean? There are a million things in the database it could refer to. Or none of them at all. How can I know which one is right? I need more."

"You have enough."

"No, I don't. You're making it into a riddle, but why? You know I'm a ball player, I'm not going to solve riddles. Just tell me."

She snapped at him, "Samuel Theseus Anders, what is the first tenet of faith? 'This is not all that we are'. And you are so much more than 'a ball player.'"

He rolled his eyes. "Okay, okay, I'm a pyramid playing Cylon, but that doesn't make me omniscient. I still don't understand what the lion means."

"Would you **think**?" she demanded and let out a huff of breath.

"Could you **help**?" he returned, just as annoyed and frustrated. "Why all the cryptic bullshit?"

She stiffened and her eyes grew cold. "I shouldn't be here at all," she said, in a low voice. "I shouldn't help you. But if you're going to be ungrateful... "

"No, I'm sorry, I'm grateful for your help," he said hastily. "Really, I am. But why can't you tell me the answer?"

Her gaze traveled across the meadow, and when he looked, he realized there were blocks of masonry and broken columns underneath the vegetation. "I can't give you your destiny, Sam. If I tell you what to do, it's not your choice anymore."

He heaved a sigh. "So I can't have another hint about where to go?"

She hesitated, considering for a long moment, then she grinned with a touch of Kara's reckless spirit. "Aw, how am I supposed to resist those eyes? Fine. This," she waved a hand all around at their surroundings, "is your clue."

"Is this Earth?" he asked, though that didn't quite feel right. He'd known Earth when it appeared in his visions before.

"Kobol," she answered. "As it is today. They say... the Lords of Kobol created humans here, in their image."

"Scripture?" he asked incredulously. "You're quoting me the Sacred Scrolls?"

"Pythia had some things correct," she said and started walking through the green. Sam had no choice but to follow her. He realized after a moment they were headed toward a ruin with a few standing columns, surrounded by green-covered humps.

She stopped between the columns and turned back to face him. The sunlight was bright behind her, haloing her body, and she stretched out her hands to either side, fingers brushing the columns.

"All this has happened before..." she said.

By rote, he finished it, "And all this will happen again." He climbed up on the stone to stand before her.

She shook her head. "It doesn't have to, Sam. It started here in ages past, but the circle can stop. Turn around."

Reluctant to turn from her, he did. His lips parted in wonder at the sight -- the broad, tree-lined boulevard, the grand stone buildings, the vast water sculpture at the far end of the street, the people strolling along.... It was beautiful.

Then during one blink it changed - the color and beauty of life turned into the gray of war. There was only one bare, ragged tree left, the boulevard was cratered and the grand buildings were ruined. There were bodies crumpled in the road and half-hidden in the rubble.

He stared in horror. This was Caprica all over again -- war and death and destruction.

His eyes caught a distant movement along the shattered street. There was someone alive, after all. Sam watched as a lone man darted from fallen columns to partial walls, holding a weapon and looking around for enemies with a desperate wariness that Sam remembered feeling from Caprica.

Kara wrapped her arms around his waist and snuggled up behind him, peering over his shoulder to watch also. She whispered in his ear, "Do you want to end it?"

When he tried to turn to look at her and ask what she was talking about, Kobol vanished.

He blinked again. He was sitting at the table on the baseship again, with Thea watching him intently.

His heart was pounding and his mouth was bone dry. He tried to talk, and could only manage, gasping, "Kobol."

The vision flashed through him again - Kobol, Kara, the ruin - and he shook his head trying to get the images out.

She squeezed his hands. "Breathe," she coaxed him. "Take a moment and breathe, Sam."

She let go with one hand and gently smoothed his hair, as he closed his eyes and took deep breaths to calm down. He grabbed the cup and gulped water, but it didn't help the cottony feeling of his mouth.

"You saw Kobol?" she prompted after he was more himself again.

"As it was. A long time ago."

Kobol. Kara, the real Kara, had told him they'd found the Tomb of Athena from clues in Pythia. That was where she'd put the Arrow that unlocked the star map of Earth.

Thea shook her head in puzzlement. "The Thirteenth Tribe left from Kobol - we know that. What does that have to do with a lion? How does that help us?"

He held up a hand to quiet her for a moment, thinking. His first foster mother after the disaster had made him go to religious school and study the Scrolls, appalled by how little he'd known. He'd memorized a lot of it, through sheer rote repetition, and now that he was himself being guided by visions, it seemed a whole lot less stupid than it had. So he stared at the top of the table, trying to think back to what Pythia had said about the Thirteenth Tribe's exodus from Kobol.

The words came back immediately, and he wanted to kick himself. No wonder "Kara" had been annoyed with him. It was right there.

He said aloud, quoting, "'And the caravan of the heavens was watched over by a great lion with a mighty blinking eye, red and blue'."

She frowned in confusion. "That sounds like the Scrolls?"

"Book of Pythia. I should've remembered. It's gotta be some kind of star or something visible from Kobol. Look for something that might appear to blink, maybe a double star system or a pulsar." When she gave him a curious look at the astronomical knowledge he'd just betrayed, he gave a sheepish grin. "I didn't learn only double corner pass plays at university."

"I'm never falling for the dumb jock act again," Thea warned playfully, and padded barefoot across the room to the wall. She put a hand into the datastream and stood there for a moment, searching.

Then a portion of the red stream turned black and an image formed of a bright colored nebula with black dust forming a shape in the middle. "This nebula has no name in the Colonial database," she told him, "but it has two pulsars, one redder and hotter than the other. Is it me, or does it look a bit like a lion's head?"

He saw it before he heard her words: the black dust against the colors of the nebula looked just like a mane spread out around a lion's head. He glanced to the left and saw his lion gazing at the image.

He nodded. "Go there."

"You're sure?" she asked.

He pursed his lips and admitted with a shrug, "No. But one vision about a lion and another reminding me of Pythia, it makes sense." His gaze swung back to the image and he murmured, "I have the feeling I've seen it before." Maybe in a dream or vision, or maybe in his astronomy textbook, but there was an echo of familiarity about it, that seemed to suggest it was the right way.

"All right, I'll tell the others. You rest, Sam. I'll be back soon."

He didn't get up from the table, though, even after she'd gone. He was tired, his head pounded like he was hungover, and all he felt like doing was sit there and sip at the water, to try to get that taste - like he'd licked a dead rat - out of his mouth.

He felt a heavy weight settle against his feet and leaned down to comb his fingers through the lion's coarse mane. Then it occurred to him he was petting an imaginary lion like a house cat, and he straightened with a sigh. He still felt its head on his shoes though, and he didn't want to move and disturb it.

'_You are out of your frakking mind, Anders. You can't disturb something that doesn't exist_,' he told himself, but with a sort of weary amusement he left his feet where they were.

The sound of footsteps in the entrance made his heart leap with sudden anxiety, pounding in his chest, and he clutched at the edge of the table to keep himself still. Frak, he needed to stop panicking. It was useless, since there was nothing he could do if it all went to hell again, but worse, it sapped his energy when he didn't have any to spare yet.

For an instant, he thought Thea was back already, but it was Caprica, hovering on the threshold as if uncertain of her welcome. "Come in," he invited, beckoning her in.

She smiled and with measured steps in her high heels, joined him, sitting in Thea's chair.

"Thea tells me you know where to go," she said, glancing at the bag of chamalla on the table.

"I think so," he said and shrugged. "It's my best guess, anyway."

She nodded. "We have a baseship only three days away. They've been dispatched to scout for us - we'll reach there a day or so later."

"Good news, thanks."

She paused and he had the distinct impression that wasn't what she had come here to say. "Caprica? Something wrong?"

Folding her hands together, she met his eyes. "That's what I wanted to ask you about. If you would give me a new name, as you did with Thea."

He blinked in surprise. "Why? I thought 'Caprica' was a name you chose?"

She shook her head. "No. The others gave it to me. Do you know why?"

He thought back to what she'd said in the parking garage on Caprica and guessed, "It has something to do with Baltar?"

"Yes." She looked down. "I seduced Gaius," she explained to her hands. "I grew to love him, but my mission was to retrieve the codes for the Colonial Fleet defense system. He gave them to me, believing I was a corporate spy. Without me, the attacks would never have been as devastating. The war might have been much longer, more like the first Cylon War, and many more humans would probably have lived."

At first he could only stare at her, trying to understand. Her shoulders hunched, and what he could see of her face was pained but determined, as if she had to confess all of this.

She went on, "So they called me Caprica Six, like I was the only Six on the whole planet. I was a hero of the Cylon. It gave me status, one among many, and let me and Sharon lead the pull-out from the Colonies. But it's not right I should be named in celebration of something so horrible." Her fingers twisted together and she finally looked up, imploring, "I need another name."

He couldn't process this. The Colonies... the attacks... Had happened because of her and Baltar. "I -- I don't know what to say..."

"Please. You're the one who helped me truly understand how wrong we were; it should come from you."

It felt physical, trying to put his mind back in order and figure out what to do about this, when he didn't even know what he felt about it yet. "I ... " he hesitated to make sure of his words. "Do you want a new name so you can forget what happened?"

"No!" she protested, but her gaze flickered aside and her fingers twisted together some more. She added, softly, "Yes. I want to forget. I want to be someone else. Someone who didn't help that happen."

That helped him decide what he thought. He shook his head. "It doesn't work that way. You can resurrect your bodies but your soul's the same. And I think your soul has learned something." He reached across the table and laid a hand over hers, squeezing briefly. "Look, I don't have an answer for you. I can't grant you absolution. I'm not a Lord of Kobol, I'm not your god. I just... I don't think it's right to try to sweep it under the rug and pretend it wasn't you. An awful lot of people died."

"I know! And I'm sorry!" she protested.

"Then keep that name as a reminder not to let it happen again. Make it a name that means something good."

"I don't know," she said doubtfully. "I thought that's what I was doing with New Caprica, and I made everything worse."

"You can't force people to forgive you, or love you," Sam told her. "Take small steps. But don't be too hard on yourself. You saved me," he reminded her. "That's a start."

She smiled, looking more at ease. "I had to, didn't I? You're our oracle." Her fingers settled on his arm and stroked down toward his hand. He shivered, realizing the touch felt exactly the same as when Thea did it. He was glad he could feel they were different individuals, despite their identical looks and touch, because otherwise things might get awkward.

Then thankfully, she pulled away before he had to do anything about it and gave him a small smile. "My sister is very lucky."

"So am I," he answered. "I thank the gods - god - for her every day."

"Yet you still wear your dog tags," she murmured, her gaze dropping down to where they were hanging, "and Kara Thrace's name above your heart."

Feeling both defensive and guilty, he reached up with a hand to clasp the pair of tags in his fingers. He answered, glancing away, "I didn't ask for any of this." He thought of months in a bright white box alone, without hope of rescue and his only solace being dreams of Kara. His lower leg ached, and he knew most of the pain was only in his head, but that didn't help him not to feel it. He'd felt too much of himself slip away to give up the last tangible connection to his past. "I didn't want to be an oracle, or have my fate tied to the Cylons. But the gods said otherwise, so I'm here. But I still hope when this is all over, Kara and I can find our way back to each other."

Caprica listened, frowning and looking sad. "And if you don't? You might find she's changed too much, or not at all, while you've gone on without her. Or maybe you'll find your love wasn't strong enough to last through the separation..."

He knew she was speaking of herself and Baltar, not really him, but she had a point. "Maybe so," he admitted. "Maybe she'll never understand why I have to be here. Maybe she'll hate me. Maybe I've already lost her and I don't know it. But that's what hope is. The game's not over 'til the final buzzer sounds -- and that's true for life, too."

Then an amusing thought hit him and he smiled at her. "And if you're a Cylon, you even get to play in overtime."

Thea came back before his metaphor got too tortured, but it made Caprica chuckle and change the subject to pyramid, and that was all he wanted.

 

* * *

Sam followed Sheryl in the maze of the identical corridors, to get back to his quarters. He was pretty sure he'd memorized the way, but someone usually escorted him anyway, so he wouldn't get lost. She was one of the Eights he'd taught pyramid, and she'd turned into something of a triad shark. She liked hearing about Sharon Agathon, and Sam had the impression Athena was something of a hero to some of the Eights.

After an afternoon of combating Doral and D'Anna, whose presence and voices made him queasy, his temper had started to slip and tiredness dragged at his muscles. He'd decided to skip dinner, in favor of bed.

The lion padded along at his side silently, no matter how Sam wished it away.

He said good night to Sheryl and went into the bathroom to get ready.

Brushing his teeth, he watched the water run in the basin and realized he'd stood in front of this mirror for two weeks, letting his gaze slip over his face or focus too narrowly when he shaved, too afraid of what he would see. He put the toothbrush away and faced the mirror squarely.

He felt so alien in his own skin; it seemed he should look different. He didn't, of course, but he didn't look quite like Samuel T. Anders of the C-Bucs anymore either. His hair was shaggy, untrimmed since Leoben had cut it after his rescue. He hadn't worn his hair this long since he'd had to tie it back to play for the Wildcats. Worse, in the brighter light he could see silver strands at his temples, glimmering as pale reminders of stress.

Then he realized he was still avoiding seeing. He forced his eyes forward again. His face was definitely thinner -- he looked hollow-cheeked and worn, especially around the eyes.

"Frak." It wasn't a surprise, exactly, since he felt that worn inside, too, but it was still annoying and depressing. He'd spent nearly a year on Caprica with insufficient food, running constantly, irradiated... and ended up looking better than he had after three months in Cavil's cell.

It hadn't stopped when he'd woken up here either. He had plenty of food, but little appetite for it. His reactions were all still frakked up, and his frequent nightmares were filled with white rooms, Cavil, Doral, and Centurions, tangled with his old buried-alive nightmare, so he woke terrified he was suffocating.

Thea did her best to help, and he knew he'd be even worse without her. But he felt impatient and annoyed at himself for being slow to get over it. He looked at his reflection intently. "Get a grip on yourself, Anders," he muttered. "Most people don't even know where they are. You know where you're going. You know what you're here for. Consider yourself frakking lucky and get your head in the game."

With a final sigh, he went out to the bedroom to find Thea already had come back. Her shoes were by the table, and she'd changed into a sapphire silky halter top and shorts for sleep. While there was no denying that all the Sixes were sexy and knew how to use it, there was something about the way she was sitting or the lighting that made her look too bony and harsh. His hands ached to hold the curve of Kara's hips and her fuller breasts, remembering the feel of her naked and damp with sweat...

But then Thea smiled, and she was beautiful again. He shook the wistful thought out of his head, as she beckoned him close. "You look tired."

"Yeah." He let out a sigh. "Doral thinks this is a trap. He believes I want revenge for what they did to me, no matter what I say. And D'Anna wants me to be sure, but it's not like this is an exact science. It's not my choice to be all cryptic - it's all I've got. I'd like to have the answer and **know**, like I used to. I don't **enjoy** riddles all the frakking time." Then he realized he was ranting at her, when it wasn't her fault either, and expelled a deep breath.

He kicked his shoes off to one side, pulled off his shirt and pants, laid them over the chair, and went to the bed to sit next to her. "So anyway, yes, I'm tired from arguing with them."

"Then, you'll be glad to know, I have wonderful news," Thea told him, grinning as though she was bursting with light.

He raised his eyebrows at her. He'd been in the command center, and he hadn't heard a whisper of good news, much less 'wonderful' news. Something must have happened while he was brooding in the bathroom. "Oh? Really? Did the scout ship make it to the nebula?"

She shook her head, looking thrilled about something else. She took his hand in hers and laid their joined hands on her stomach. "You and me…" she smiled broadly, but looked close to tears as well. "I'm pregnant."

The word went through him like a bullet.

"What? Preg--? Pregnant?" he blurted in blank shock and for an instant, thought wildly that the word must mean something different to Cylons. "You mean, you're actually -- you're going to have a baby? But -- but that's impossible. I thought Cylons couldn't-- Cylons can't --" He stopped before he managed to stammer out everything. Pregnant. The whole reason for the farms and Sharon's mission with Helo had been because Cylons were infertile with other Cylons. So either that basic assumption was wrong, or…

Or he wasn't a Cylon after all.

Gods, every time he thought he knew **what** he was, something threw him all in confusion again.

"Is it so terrible?" she asked in a small voice, and when he looked at her face, her expression had fallen into disappointment and hurt.

"No, no," he rushed to reassure her, pulling her into a hug. She clung to him for a moment, face against his neck, and he felt awful that he had hurt her. "I'm sorry; it's not terrible, not at all. I'm just - I'm shocked that it could happen at all. Are you sure?"

"I know," she answered. "I can feel it." Her smile returned, tender and joyful as she looked into his eyes. "It's a miracle, Sam. The second of God's new generation. To replace the one who was lost."

"Hera's not lost," he corrected absently, mind still slowed by the knowledge that Thea was pregnant. "A miracle," he repeated, taking a deep breath and trying to settle the sheer terror tightening his chest. He framed Thea's face in his hands and kissed her, trying to share his amazement with her. They fell back into the bed, kissing, but after a moment, parted, content to hold each other in wondering silence. He rubbed his cheek on her hair, staring at the ceiling and trying to make sense of it all.

Did this mean he loved her? Sharon and Helo had thought love was the way to get Human and Cylon to have children. Did he love Thea? Gods, how was he supposed to know? He'd been in a box for three months, and she was there to help him, keep him something close to sane.

But could he love her and love Kara, too? He hadn't seen Kara in months. He didn't even know if she was alive. But Thea was real and she was there - and she was going to have his baby.

Gods. Baby. He held Thea as she fell asleep, and as he gently rubbed a hand down her arm and back, he wondered at the irony. More than ten years of pro ball and casual frakking, he'd had only two claims of paternity against him, and both had turned out false. Yet the instant he had unprotected sex with a Cylon, thinking they couldn't **possibly** be fertile together -- miracle baby. It'd be funny if it weren't so terrifying.

The reality of it slowly sank in as he lay beside her, sleepless. His hand slipped over her waist to cradle her stomach. A baby. An actual baby was growing in there. A new life. A new **Cylon** life.

He felt ill and anxious at the thought. Cylon. Thea was a Cylon, and if he really was, too, then the baby wasn't a hybrid, but a full-blooded Cylon. How was that even possible? Was it truly a miracle, as Thea believed?

But hybrid or Cylon, the baby was something to live for when the gods were pushing him around. Another tie to the Cylons. A reward for his suffering, perhaps. Something to test him with later. But even that thought didn't make his stomach grow leaden with dread as much as the thought that the miracle might be in exchange for Kara.

Because she was never going to forgive him for this. She might understand all the rest -- but loving a Cylon enough to get her pregnant would have to be a betrayal to her.

**Kara**.

Unsurprisingly, in his dreams, Kara walked away from him, into a bright blinding light. He tried to follow her, but Thea held his hand and kept him at her side. When he pulled free and ran after Kara, he couldn't find her anywhere.


	3. Are You Alive?

_They entered through the front door of her apartment, and Kara kicked it shut with her foot, hands twined around his neck, while their mouths met wetly. Sam had a hand on the back of her thigh, like he'd started to lift her leg around him and then forgotten._

He moved backward, automatically seeking some kind of horizontal surface, too occupied with her to realize there were stairs.

She grabbed him as he started to fall backward. "Frak!" His other hand snapped forward to grab her arm as his foot missed a tread and hit the second. For a second his greater weight pulled against her, and she feared they'd tumble down the whole flight. But he caught his balance with a knee hard on the top step, and in a moment he was staring up at her, breathing hard.

"Stairs? Going down? Whose stupid frakking idea was that?" he demanded.

She shrugged. "It was cheap. We can't all have fancy houses in the Heights," she said with a nudge as she picked her way around him. "I'll show you around."

He followed her down to the floor level, where one of the mandala paintings was hanging on the wall. He paused before it, frowning, and said, "I've seen this before."

"It was that dream where we frakked in the old temple," she reminded him, and then realized how stupid she sounded, reminding a dream of another dream. She paused for a moment, expecting to wake up now that she'd realized this was another one of the dreams.

But her apartment persisted, and Sam persisted, still looking at the painting. He reached out to touch it lightly, his attention entirely too focused on it. She poked him in the side. "Right here. Remember me?"

He turned, grinning, his hand raised. She saw that his fingertips were covered with paint -- red, blue, and yellow. Before she could react, he'd swept a finger down her nose and left a streak of yellow.

"Hey!" she yelped and shoved him into the wall, against the painting. He laughed and swiped blue and red across her cheek and shoulder, and so she put a hand into the wet paint behind him. Since his shirt was somehow miraculously not there anymore, she wiped her hand all over his chest, leaving swirls of color.

Then, somewhat light-headed from the fumes or just his nearness, she leaned into him and kissed him hard. He took hold of her hips and held her on her toes, against the bulk of his body, as her fleet tanks got paint all over them.

They ended up on the floor, their clothes heedlessly pitched away. She was on her back, looking up at his colorful skin and the dangling pair of dog tags, while she had one foot wrapped around his waist to open herself for the hand he had between her legs.

"This is a dream," Kara murmured against his mouth, ignoring how it felt so real.

"Is it?" he asked before lowering his head to kiss her neck and collarbone slowly, absently, most of his concentration going to the rhythm of his fingers stroking her arousal.

"You're dead," she protested, breathlessly. "You're dead, Sam."

"You sure know how to break the mood," he teased, but it didn't really seem broken as his lips tugged on her breast. That and a particularly firm touch on her clit was enough to send her shuddering, the knot in her lower belly unwinding in an instant.

"This is all in my head. Just a dream."

As she caught her breath, his head lifted to look into her face. He was smiling. "You don't believe any of that."

Her hand went to his cheek and the purplish smear there. "Are you alive?" she demanded. "Tell me, Sam. I have to know."

"If it's all in your head, whatever I say won't matter, will it?" he returned, smile widening.

"Just tell me!" she shoved at his shoulder, not hard enough to dislodge him, but enough to make her point. Then she wrapped both legs around him to bring him on top of her tight and close, not willing to let go.

He chuckled. "Yes, I'm alive. You're alive. We're all alive," he answered and he pushed inside her.

Gods, she could not get enough of the feel of him, stretching her with every snap of his hips. Kara encouraged him, wanting him to go faster, but he seemed to want only to frak her slow and maddening. "C'mon, baby, you can do better than this."

"Patience," he chided and teased, "Gotta make it good, being dead and all."

She whacked him on the shoulder, but it didn't stop him. Soon patience paid off, as his slow pace raised the feeling higher and higher, until her whole body suddenly seized up around him. She gasped, unable to catch her breath, feeling the heat rise out of her. "Oh gods, oh gods, Sammy!" She arched up into him, reduced to an inarticulate moan, and he followed, freezing deep with a gasp torn from the bottom of his lungs, and then faltered into quick thrusts to finish off.

"Oh, frak me dead," he whispered and bent to kiss her sweaty brow and the side of her face. "Kara..."

She stopped him with a hand on his chest. The paint was still wet and she traced a red line up the middle to the hollow of his throat. Then she realized how much it looked like blood. "Sam, are you hurt?" she asked, a sudden anxiety clutching at her heart. "Tell me where you are, so I can find you."

His free hand smoothed her hair from her face gently, blue eyes soft with love and understanding. "You're so brave. But there's nothing you can do, baby. I'm where I have to be, and so are you. Our paths will cross again soon."

His lips touched hers to seal his promise, and she kept her eyes closed as he pulled away, knowing that if she opened them, she would be awake and he would be gone.   
* * *

Kara sat at the table with Duck, Helo and Sharon, playing cards. Tigh came in, looking unshaven and already drunk. Kara had heard about Ellen, and as much as she didn't get along with Tigh on the best of days, she had some sympathy for what he was feeling. "Hey, Colonel, pull up a chair."

He looked at the table and sneered, going to sit with Kat and Chopper instead. "Rather sit at a table not so full." His single eye on Sharon made it clear he meant her and all her friends.

Helo stiffened, but Sharon put a hand on his arm. "Your turn," she murmured, forcibly turning his attention back to the game.

But Tigh wasn't done complaining as he poured himself a shot from the bottle on the table. "You seen the lineup at the head? Frakking civilians think they run the ship now."

"Beats what we had before," Hotdog said, from the third table, where he sat with Racetrack and Ninja. "Ship was a tomb."

"You want to know what alone feels like, try spending a few weeks in a Cylon cell," Tigh spat at him.

Kara's heart lurched in her chest, looking at Tigh and his missing eye, and imagining Sam somewhere out there, going on five months in a cell, if D'Anna had been telling the truth to Boomer and Athena.

Kara poured more into her own cup and swallowed half of it before responding, keeping her tone level. "Yeah, it was a bitch all around. You try coming up with a plan to rescue your sorry asses with no pilots."

Chopper snorted. "Oh, it was so rough up here, was it? Hot showers, three squares a day?" And some other pilots at the fourth table, ones who'd been on New Caprica, nodded and murmured in agreement.

Helo and Duck exchanged a worried look. "Hey," Duck said, trying to diffuse the sudden tension, "we all made sacrifices."

"Is that so?" Tigh challenged.

"Yeah, that's so," Helo answered.

"Oh, really? While you were up here pinning wings on toasters, our people were strapping homemade bombs to their chests. So forgive me if I don't get all misty over your sacrifices."

Then Kara was done with holding back. Furious about how he was making it sound like the fleet personnel had been sitting around drinking ambrosia all the time, Kara jumped to her feet, ignoring Duck's murmured caution, and stood in front of Tigh. "Sacrifice? You think you're the only one who sacrificed? Frak you. At least Sam's not gone because he was a traitor."

Barolay had passed on what Hilliard had told her -- Ellen had died because she'd betrayed the resistance to the Cylons.

The shot hit him and he surged up from his seat. "Shut up!" He took a swing at her, and she danced back out of the way.

"Colonel!" Kat tried to hold him back, but he shook her off.

"Truth hurts, doesn't it, Colonel?" Kara taunted. "That your own sacrifice was because she sold you out?"

"No! Never!" he roared and came at her again.

But by then, Karl and Duck and Ninja were there, holding them apart. "Kara, out!" Karl ordered her.

She resisted for a moment, just so Tigh would be sure she wasn't leaving because she was afraid of him, and then turned on her heel and left. Out in the main corridor, walking to clear her head, she had to push past civilians chatting. "One side, people," she snapped. "Don't block the corridor."

They moved and she kept walking. Halfway to the hangar bay, she let out a sigh, feeling a niggling guilt inside for poking him so hard. Damn it. What had happened to her that she was feeling sorry for the frakking colonel?

"Captain! Captain Thrace?" a sudden voice calling behind her made her turn. She scanned the crowd and found a familiar woman approaching.

"Julia?" Kara asked, looking behind her for the girls.

"Oh, thank the gods, I was hoping to find you. They're with some friends," Julia explained, understanding Kara's look. "But that's what I wanted to ask you about. Have you heard anything about the other girl? If she has family? I keep trying to ask the officers who wander in occasionally, but they brush me off. It's been two weeks, and I get the feeling she's been forgotten. I don't mind taking care of her for a little while, but if she has family, it would be better for everyone."

"Right," Kara nodded. "Well, I haven't heard anything, but then, I'm not assigned to anything with the refugees." But Julia's face fell in disappointment, and Kara figured that if she couldn't be drinking and playing cards, maybe she could do something useful. "You know what? I hear Sickbay is quieter these days. Maybe Doctor Cottle can figure out something. He has records of all the fleet births. So what do we say we pick up the girl and head over there?"

Julia's smile was sudden and bright, making Kara glad that she'd offered.

Kara followed Julia back toward the hangar bay. "You're in the hangar?" she asked, somewhat horrified at the thought of two little girls living there, among the fuel and fumes and noise.

Julia shrugged. "They cordoned off a corner for us. There's nowhere else, I guess. At least we have cots and blankets and toilets we can use."

"Well, I'll talk to Captain Kelly and see if we can get you moved someplace else. Little kids shouldn't be on the deck." Kara realized what she'd previously thought was a pile of crates in the corner was actually a wall, hiding a group of refugees.

It was crowded and it smelled, but at least it seemed organized with the cots arranged in rows and worn sheets hung on lines as low privacy curtains. Julia wound her way through with practiced ease, finding a particular cot and two little girls. The blonde one, Kacey, smiled at her mom and ran to meet her. The other was perched on the lap of an older woman, and she turned her little curly-haired head with mild interest.

Kara wondered if it was just her imagination that the little girl seemed to brighten a touch at the sight of her.

Julia explained the situation to the other woman quickly and picked up the little girl in her arms. "I feel terrible not knowing her name," she confessed to Kara. "I think that's almost the worst part about this. If I just knew her name..."

Kara touched the dark curls. "Yeah, let's go find out your name. We'll go see Doc Cottle - and I gotta warn you, he's grumpy as all hell, and he smokes like a chimney, but he's got a big heart. So don't you worry. Let's go find out if you've got a mom or a dad or a second cousin twice-removed in this fleet someplace."

Kacey refused to let her mother leave her again, and Kara took her hand to lead her out. One of the marines tried to bar them from going out that way and she stared him down. "These people are going to Sickbay, marine. You want me to tell Gunny Mathias you tried refusing the command of a superior officer and you held two little girls at gunpoint?"

"No, sir, of course not," he returned and stepped out of the way.

After they went past, Julia wrinkled her nose and glared at his back. Kara chuckled and called out loudly enough to be heard, "They're all so frakking humorless." Then she realized the two little girls were right there and fixed her language, "Fucking humorless, I should've said. Sorry."

Julia smiled and shook her head, "I'm sure they've both heard worse."

In Sickbay Ishay was helping someone who seemed to have hurt their arm. She glanced over. "Starbuck? What's wrong?"

She shook her head. "Nothing urgent. But we need a moment of the Doc's time, when he's free. There's a little kid we need his help to identify."

Ishay nodded. "He's in surgery right now, so it might be awhile. But as long as you stay out of the way, you can wait. If you want. Or try back later."

"We'll wait," Julia said. Ishay shrugged and went back to what she was doing. Julia said in answer to Kara's glance, "Like we've got anywhere else to be."

Kacey started to get bored and Kara sneaked tongue depressors off the cart to let her play with them.

"You don't have to wait," Julia said once. "I appreciate your help getting us this far. But I'm sure you have more important things to do."

"Not really. I'll have to get back to my rack eventually, but for now, it's fine. This way, I can make sure you get the doc's attention."

Eventually, Cottle came out of the adjoining room, stripping off his outer scrubs. Ishay intercepted him and nodded over toward the little gathering in the corner. He started their way. "Starbuck. Another orphan?"

"Hopefully not," she said and gestured to the little girl, who was now asleep on Julia's shoulder. "She has to have been born in the Fleet, so we hoped you'd know who she is."

"Well, I can take a look, and a DNA sample if necessary, and --" his words faltered to a stop as soon as he got a good look at her face. "Gods, I thought she was dead," he muttered.

"You know who she is?" Julia asked eagerly. "Does she have family?"

"Her-- her mother, Maya, was killed in the exodus, I'm told," Cottle said after a moment. "Maya was helping the president in her schoolroom on New Caprica. Roslin'll be very relieved that little Isis is still alive."

"Isis?" Julia repeated and smiled. "Hello, Isis," she murmured to the sleeping little girl. "Does she have family other than her mother?"

Cottle hesitated and he glanced away, frowning. "I -- I don't know," he answered. "Possibly the president knows. I'll inform her of this, and - and find out what she wants to do," he added, the words coming reluctantly from his mouth.

"'What she wants to do?'" Julia repeated, confused. "What do you mean?"

Cottle shook himself. "She was fond of the girl, that's all," he said brusquely. "Is she healthy?"

"She's fine," Julia answered, still frowning a little at the doctor.

Kara added, "I'm going to ask Kelly to get them off the hangar deck. That can't be good for kids."

"Definitely not. Well, if none of you are hurt or sick, you don't belong here. Starbuck, I'll let you know what Roslin has to say," he said in blunt dismissal and went into his office.

Kara took a sleepy Kacey up on her hip, and the two women left. "Why would President Roslin take such an interest in Isis?" Julia asked in confusion.

"I guess because she knew her." Kara shrugged. "But that's good, I think. If Isis does have relatives or people she knows, the president can find them for her."

Julia nodded, still seeming a bit puzzled by the attention, but accepted it. They started back toward the hangar bay, and Kara saw a tall familiar shape ahead of them. "Helo!"

He heard her voice and stopped for them. He saw Kara carrying the girl, and grinned. "Got something to tell me, Starbuck?"

"Shut up," she told him. "How's the colonel?"

His amusement slipped away. "Drunk." His gaze fell on Julia and he shrugged. "Trying to do what he was doing before. I'm going to report to the Old Man."

She nodded, understanding what he wasn't saying in front of the civilian. "Figures. Helo, this is Julia Brynn, her daughter Kacey, and, uh, foster daughter Isis. Julia, this is Captain Agathon."

They exchanged pleasantries, but Kara saw how his eyes lingered on the two sleeping girls, especially Isis. He told Julia in a slightly strangled voice, "You're very lucky. Excuse me." He moved off quickly, leaving Julia staring after him and probably wondering if the entire Fleet had no manners.

Kara explained in a low voice, "His own daughter died soon after she was born last year. I should've thought about that before introducing you."

"No, that's okay," Julia said. "I understand." She smoothed Kacey's hair gently.

"I'll bring you back to your racks, so the girls can sleep."

Their path followed Helo's for a little while, so Julia saw when Sharon met him down the corridor. Julia stopped, staring, for a moment, obviously recognizing a Cylon. "What? How can one of them be here?"

"It's all right," Kara reassured her. "Sharon left the Cylons a long time ago. She's the one who got the launch keys so the ships could take off from New Caprica. She married Helo."

"Oh," Julia's eyes were huge as she watched Sharon and Karl walking together before they disappeared toward their quarters. "It was their baby who died."

"Yeah, she was really devastated."

"Well, of course," Julia said, as if it was self-evident. "I didn't know Cylons could have babies."

"Hera was the only one," Kara told her. "The Cylons believe only their love was strong enough to make it possible."

Julia stared at the space they'd been for a little while. Kara could practically see the switch in Julia's head flip Sharon from enemy to friend. "Wow. It's like a storybook, isn't it -- two enemies brought together by love?" she asked, when they resumed walking. "It must be very hard for her, fighting her own kind and the humans who hate her just for being one of them. And then losing her baby. That's awful."

Kara glanced at her with surprise. "I don't think I've ever heard anyone express that kind of sympathy for Sharon, especially someone who hasn't even met her."

Julia looked surprised at her surprise. "I don't have to meet her to try to understand her. Besides, the Scrolls warn us against hating our enemies blindly, because then we miss opportunities for peace."

Kara nodded slowly, made thoughtful by the answer.

She saw Julia and the girls safely to their rack and found her own, determined to corner Kelly tomorrow and twist his arm into moving the Brynn family off the hangar deck.

Pulling the curtain on her bunk, she clasped the pair of dog tags on top of her chest, rubbing the two names with her thumb, and stared at the bottom of the rack above her while she waited for sleep and dreams of Sam.


	4. A Child in the Hall

_She stood in a long hallway of a building. The place seemed rich to Kara, with thick carpet under her bare feet and a high ceiling hung with glittering chandeliers. She turned slowly, trying to decide which way to go, but either direction seemed the same._

A high-pitched girlish giggle surprised her and she spun around to find the source.

At the far end, she saw a tiny child standing alone.

"Isis?" Kara started toward the little girl with the distinctive dark curls, but Isis started waddling away. "Isis! Wait, honey!" Kara ran to catch her.

Kara reached the bottom of a set of wide stairs. Isis was above her, and as Kara started up, Isis crawled over the top one and out of sight. "Isis!" Kara chased her, unable to believe that a tiny toddler could disappear so fast.

At the top, Isis was nowhere to be seen in this upper hall. There was light streaming in through high narrow windows, almost as if it was a temple. On the opposite side, curtained archways opened inward, one after another. There were old symbols above each one, but Kara paid little attention, picking the first door and going in to look for Isis.

She realized this place was a theater, as she emerged into the back of a balcony full of padded seats. She went down the slanted aisle toward the front, looking around in amazement. She'd never been in a theater like this -- it was similar to the Caprica City symphony hall but much larger and more ornate. It probably seated as many people as the C-Bucs Coliseum, with rows and rows of seats on three levels, all facing toward the stage. There were even fancy boxes to either side of the stage for people to see and be seen.

The stage itself was immense and mostly bare, except for some hanging white drapes. Five white-robed and hooded figures stood on the trailing ends of those drapes. and they seemed to glow in the golden stage lights. Other than herself and Isis, they were the only people in this whole place, so she called out loudly, "Hey! Have you seen a little girl?"

They didn't move or seem to react to her at all, even though her voice echoed in the theater. "Hello!"

But she heard Isis giggle again and looked around, trying to find her. Movement caught her eye, and she watched as a Cylon emerged onto the box to the right of the stage. Given that it was an Eight in a Colonial flight-suit, Kara knew who it had to be -- one of them, at least. "Sharon!"

But Sharon didn't hear her either. She went to the railing of the box and her expression was frantic, as she called, "Hera! Where are you?"

Isis giggled again and appeared in the box directly opposite Sharon, who seemed to see her, too. "Hera!"

Isis laughed and said distinctly, "Mama!"

"Stay there, Hera! I'm coming," Sharon called to her and ran out of the box.

Kara was closer and hurried back to the hallway, running toward the last arched entry to the box. When Kara pulled back the curtain, bright light shone in her eyes.

* * *

Kara opened her eyes and saw the bottom of the rack above her.

The dream was still with her and though she wanted to dismiss it as just a dream brought on by seeing Karl and Sharon and Isis yesterday, she didn't think she could. The dream had the same hyper-real feel to it that some of her dreams about Sam did, and didn't seem like the usual surreal sorting of her subconscious. She remembered it all, as if she'd been there for real -- the hall, the lights, the strange white-robed figures, and Sharon calling Hera.

But if the dream meant something, the only thing that seemed reasonable was that Isis and Hera were the same person. She'd been chasing Isis but Sharon had been chasing Hera - and Isis had called Sharon 'mama'.

Yet that couldn't be. Hera was dead. Karl had spread her ashes in space. For it to be true, would mean that Doctor Cottle had lied to both the Agathons, and since Kara doubted he'd done it of his own volition, someone must have ordered him to do it. But who would do that? While Kara had no doubt many people would lie to Sharon, who would be cruel enough to Karl to tell him his baby was dead?

Cottle had needed to tell Roslin about Isis being alive. Roslin had some special connection to the little girl that seemed far more important than being just the orphaned daughter of a schoolroom assistant.

It had to be Roslin. The Admiral might go along with it, but she couldn't believe he'd choose to give Karl the same pain he'd felt when Zak had died. Especially not when he seemed to see Helo as something of a replacement for Zak anyway. So it had probably been Roslin's anti-Cylon paranoia that had started it.

But even if this was true, Gods, she couldn't accuse the president or the admiral of lying to the Agathons on the basis of a frakking **dream**. She couldn't tell the Agathons and raise their hopes. Frak, she needed to find out if it was true first.

She was still trying to figure out how to find out if it was true when she went to see Kelly about moving the Brynn family -- a mission that had become more important after finding out that it might be Hera now living in "Camp Oilslick."

"Starbuck, there's no space - we are stuffed to the beams - " he complained.

"Kelly," she glared at him, not willing to take that crap excuse. "Two tiny toddler girls are bunking on the hangar bay. It's not right, it's dangerous, and Cottle says it's not healthy either."

He groaned and rolled his eyes. "It's not that simple--"

"Sure it is. You move them."

"So what's your interest anyway?" he asked, letting out a disgruntled breath.

For an instant Kara considered telling the truth, that she thought Isis might be Helo's daughter, stolen from him and Sharon, but bit her lip. Not yet. She shrugged. "Julia asked for my help to find the littlest one's family, if she has one left."

"All right," he gave in with a sigh. "I'll switch them with someone in the starboard pod, but you know conditions suck there, too, right? Hopefully we can clear some of the crowd out to the fleet soon before conditions get worse."

She smiled brightly at him. "Thank you." He irritably waved her to go away, and she left, to go back to the hangar bay and tell Julia the good news.

In the hangar bay, she paused, curious, as the president's aide, Tory Foster, and two marines of the presidential detail came out of Racetrack's Raptor. Instead of heading for the exit and the command staff, Foster headed for the far corner where the refugees were housed.

Kara frowned. Her dream was starting to look more true.

She hurried toward them. "Ms. Foster? What brings you to _Galactica_?"

Foster turned and smiled a greeting. "President Roslin sent me to retrieve the child Isis. And her foster mother," she added, almost as an afterthought. "I'm bringing them to Colonial One. You're acquainted, I believe? Would you escort me to them?"

"Sure, I'd be glad to," Kara said and led the way. Then, just to see what Foster would say, Kara asked, "So Isis has family?"

"No, she's an orphan," Foster told her. "But the President intends to ask Ms. Brynn if she would continue caring for the child on Colonial One."

"On the president's ship? She must have been very close to the girl's mother," Kara said.

"Maya helped us in the school."

Kara frowned at her, in pretended confusion. "Doctor Cottle said Maya was a foster mother."

Foster glanced at her, as if starting to sense that she knew something. "That's right. Isis was already orphaned, and Maya's own child had died."

"So her baby must have died about the same time as my friend Helo's baby girl Hera, then," Kara said. "How very sad."

Foster looked uncomfortable, and faced forward to avoid her gaze. "The child was half-Cylon, Captain Thrace."

"And half-human. Hera's also Captain Agathon's child," Kara corrected, looking for evidence of guilt. "Helo's my friend and I can tell you her loss hurt him, a lot."

"I'm sure it was difficult for him," Foster said, as if she knew it was the right thing to say, but it didn't actually mean anything to her. She walked faster, as if to get to Camp Oilslick and steal Hera again and be done with it. Kara glared at her back, now pretty sure it was true and Foster knew about it.

Kara glanced at the marines who were following them, and wondered what orders they had, and how she was going to do this. Hera needed to go home - she remembered how distraught Sharon had been, and Helo less so, but only because he'd been fighting so hard to keep Sharon from leaving him, too. But Kara had seen him, in those months afterward, and knew the loss had hit him, too.

"I need to talk to Chief Tyrol for a moment . Be right back," she said to Foster and hurried to the side of the deck, before the other woman could say anything.

"Captain," Tyrol greeted her, looking confused.

"Get Sharon here," Kara murmured to him urgently. "I think Hera's still alive."

Tyrol stared at her, as if she'd gone out of her mind. "What?"

"The dark-haired girl with Julia Brynn is Hera, I'm sure of it. Tory Foster is here to take her again, and never tell Helo or Sharon she's alive."

"Do you know what you're saying?" Tyrol demanded.

Kara returned his stare levelly. "I'm saying President Roslin faked Hera's death and stole her from the Agathons, Chief. And that's not right. Are you gonna help them get her back?"

Tyrol glanced over at Foster and leaned closer. "If the Old Man knows, Starbuck…"

She hoped he didn't know, because she didn't think her faith could take that big of a hit where the admiral was concerned. But she answered confidently, "Then he'll tell the truth if we make him. But we need some kind of proof or confrontation. Get Sharon down here and we'll see what happens. Don't tell her why."

Tyrol gave her another look as if to make sure she was serious, then he nodded and moved toward the phone. Kara returned to where Foster was waiting impatiently and hoped her smile looked somewhat sincere. "Sorry about that. Here, I'll show you. Julia's a friend of mine."

She went the long way through the camp to give Athena more time to get there and got "lost" once down the wrong aisle. "Sorry, it's a bit confusing," she explained to Foster.

They went past many other refugees and finally got to the rack where Julia was sitting, showing Kacey how to knit while Hera sat on the bed playing with a length of string.

Foster recognized the child and smiled, striding forward purposefully. "Isis! There you are!" The girl didn't look or seem to know Foster was there, but Julia glanced up.

She seemed pleased to see Kara, smiling. "Kara?"

"This is Tory Foster," Kara introduced. "She's President Roslin's aide."

"Yes. And I'm here to offer you and Isis and your daughter a berth on _Colonial One_," Foster said. "Isis has no other family, so if you'd be willing to take care of her, we'd love to have you on the president's ship."

Julia looked pleased for a moment before she frowned and glanced at Kara. "I… That'd be nice, and of course I remember you from New Caprica. But I don't understand why…"

"It's important that Isis have a parent who understands children, and since she's already bonded with you…" Foster shrugged a little.

Julia said, "But I've already got Kacey, and I know there are others who have lost their children. Like that Captain Agathon, I know he and his wife might like to take care of her instead."

Kara couldn't hide her grin as Foster tightened her lips as if she might throw up at the innocent suggestion. "Well, that might be, but for now the president thinks it's a better idea to keep the disruption in Isis' life to a minimum--"

Little Hera looked up, past Kara's shoulder and smiled.

A soft voice whispered, "Oh my God... Hera?"

Kara turned to see Sharon standing there in tanks with her flight suit folded down, gazing in wonder at the girl. Tyrol was at her side, also staring at Hera.

Foster took a deep breath and took two steps, to stand between Sharon and Hera. "Lieutenant Agathon," she greeted, curling her lip in utter distaste. "This is Isis. She is not your daughter. I don't mean to be cruel, but Hera is dead."

Sharon shook her head, not taking her eyes from Hera. "No. I know her. I've been seeing her in my dreams every night since we left New Caprica..."

Every night? Kara realized she'd also had one of those strange, vivid dreams about Sam every night, except last night when she'd dreamed of Hera. Her stomach made a slow turn of apprehension, realizing these dreams had to be sent by the gods. Accustomed to thinking of Sam as the oracle, it felt unsettling to realize he wasn't the only one.

And somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard her mother's voice telling her she was special. She really didn't want to think about that.

Luckily Foster drew her attention by scoffing, "Oh, dreams," in a tone of voice that suggested Sharon was crazy. The woman had never had dreams like this, or she could never say that.

Foster turned imploring eyes on Tyrol. "Come on, Galen, after what Cylons did to Cally and **your** baby, why are you even listening to this toaster's delusions?"

"This toaster saved your ass by getting the launch keys," Kara cut in, disliking Foster more and more by the minute.

"Which we only needed because her people made New Caprica into their playground," Foster snapped back.

Tyrol lifted both hands. "Stop. Just stop, both of you. Is it true?" Tyrol demanded roughly of Foster. "I was there when Helo dumped Hera's ashes into space. Were they fake?"

"Of course not!" she exclaimed, throwing up her hands in exasperation. "Why would you even begin to believe the ravings of this mad Cylon?"

"'Mad Cylon'?" Sharon's dark eyes slipped to Foster, hard and sharp as lasers. "Roslin stole my baby. You haven't even begun to see a mad Cylon."

"Is that a threat toward the president?" Foster asked with cool aplomb.

"If she tries to take my child again, you can bet on it," Sharon retorted.

Julia was on her feet, glancing between Foster and Sharon. "This is your baby? Why would they pretend she was dead and lie to you?"

"Because she's a toaster," someone else called out, and Kara realized that other refugees were listening. This could all get spectacularly ugly real fast, and she realized the hangar deck might not have been the best choice of place. Her gaze met Tyrol's and she nodded in answer to his silent question. He backed away, hopefully to get some deck hands or find a phone to call for some backup.

"She's a mother!" Julia called back, incensed.

"Of a child that died," Foster insisted. "This is Isis, Maya's daughter, not hers."

"Oh, stop," Kara snapped, well past annoyed now. "You know you've been found out, so give it up."

Of course she didn't. "We're under orders to bring Isis back to _Colonial One_," Foster said. "I suggest you come with us and we'll discuss it there."

"We're not going anywhere," Sharon declared in a tone of voice that Kara had never heard from her before, wintry and absolute. Her hand settled on her sidearm, and the two marines with Foster grasped their weapons, too.

Kara saw it and swallowed. "Sharon, no," Kara shook her head. "Don't."

"They stole her, Kara," Sharon said and for an instant, her lips trembled, before she pressed them together and swallowed. "They'll have to kill me to take her again. And if they do, I'll come back for her." She glared at Tory, while clutching her sidearm in her fingers, still in its holster. "That's Hera. I know it; I can feel it. And she's not going anywhere."

"Actually, she is," Foster said and gestured to the marines. "Lieutenant Agathon is clearly delusional and obstructing a presidential order. Restrain the Cylon if she interferes."

"Stand down," Kara snapped. "There'll be no restraining an officer under my command. And you, lieutenant, keep your weapon holstered. Nobody's doing anything with the kid until we get to the bottom of this."

For a moment all was still, until Julia's diffident voice said, "Uh, Captain? Kara? She's gone."

Kara glanced at the bed, and sure enough, Hera wasn't there anymore. Kara spun around, frowning, looking around. Both Foster and Sharon became frantic, calling out 'Isis' and 'Hera', running in opposite directions, while Julia looked under the cot and talked to her neighbors, trying to find where the girl had gone.

"She's over here!" a voice called from an aisle over. Kara ran to get her. Not quite there, she heard, "She went under the cot!"

And Foster's voice was sharp, "Isis! Stop this at once!"

A giggle soared out above the melee, and another voice exclaimed, "What the hell!"

"Someone get a hold of her!" Kara called out.

She followed the noises, ducking rudely underneath other people's curtains and stumbling on their meager belongs with a muttered 'sorry', before continuing. For a little thing, Hera was fast in real life, too.

Finally, she had Hera in sight. "Hera! Sweetie, stop! Stop her!" she shouted at the marine in the door.

But the marine **stepped aside**, like a moron. At least Kara thought so until she realized he'd moved because the Admiral, with Helo behind him, was stepping through. His gaze dropped to the toddler wobbling pell-mell right to him, and Kara and the crowd following her. He bent and scooped up Hera into his arms with a father's familiarity. He settled her onto one side, and directed his lowered gaze at Kara. "Captain! What's going on here?"

She took a deep breath, glanced at Helo and wished there was an easier way to say this, "Sir, we believe that's Hera Agathon."

Adama's eyes widened and he looked at Hera. She reached for his glasses and he absently pushed her hand away.

"What?" Helo looked clubbed. "But that can't be... How can that be possible?"

"It's not," Foster said, coming up beside Kara. "Her name is Isis."

"You liar!" Sharon spat at her. "That's Hera. That's my daughter, and all of you lied to us!" She was rigid, glaring at Adama.

"I never lied to you," he said. "As far as I know, your daughter died. What makes you believe differently?"

She relaxed slightly with relief, hearing he didn't know, and she explained, "I've been dreaming of her. And here she is. Now Roslin wants to take her from me again."

Foster's voice remained deeply respectful. "Sir, President Roslin grew close to Isis on New Caprica; honestly she just wants to see the girl is safe."

Adama's gaze flickered to Hera in his arms, Helo hovering at his shoulder and to Kara and Sharon, then back to Foster. After a moment he said, "Ms Foster, it's been my experience when people say 'honestly' they are being anything but honest."

She straightened as if slapped, but didn't dare say anything.

"But this isn't the place for this discussion," Adama continued. "Chief, get your deck back in order. Starbuck, Helo, Athena, and Ms Foster, let's go."

Karl and Sharon could barely take their eyes off the girl in Adama's arms, as he turned away, but still managed to hold hands as they hurried after.

"Oh frak," Foster muttered under her breath, but Kara caught it, and had to smile a little, as she followed behind them.


	5. One Comes Home

In Adama's quarters, the admiral picked the handset off the wall and told CIC, "Send Doctor Cottle to my office and get me the president."

Then he sat in the chair at the middle table, Hera in his lap, and gestured with his free hand for the others to sit in the semi-circular seating area. "Helo, Athena, please," he murmured, when they didn't seem inclined to sit down. "We need the truth. I promise you, if this really is Hera, no one will be taking her from you." When Hera got squirmy, he gave her a little wooden figurine to hold and gnaw on, but didn't relinquish her.

Foster sat stiffly on one side, while the Agathons took the far end, and Kara put herself more in the middle, but definitely to the Agathons' side.

"How do you know?" Adama asked Sharon.

"I can feel her, Admiral. I've been having these dreams about her. Vivid, real dreams. I know it sounds strange," she added defensively and then said, with a glance at Kara, "Sam told me she was still alive, almost a year ago. I didn't want to believe him, but somehow I've always known she was alive."

"Sir... feelings, and dreams, and the ravings of an oracle -- " Foster protested.

That pricked Kara's temper and she turned her head to glare at Foster. "Ravings? He was frakking right about New Caprica --"

"Starbuck," Adama said mildly enough, but it quelled her anger and made her sit back. "I agree with you, Ms. Foster, that dreams and prophecies and oracles aren't enough. I don't believe in them either. But the fact is Doctor Cottle rushed to cremate the body without the approval of either of her parents, and that's always bothered me. Not enough to suspect she might be alive, but it was wrong. But that's not nearly as wrong as lying to me on my own ship."

His tone sharpened, and Kara felt a smile of anticipation tug at her lips. She'd been on the receiving end of the Admiral's anger more than a few times, and not for anything this bad. If this all turned out to be a lie, he was going to be **pissed**.

The phone rang and Adama grabbed it. "Yes? Ah, Madam President. Ms. Foster is presently sitting in my office with the Agathons. And a child who may be Hera Agathon. Before Doctor Cottle arrives to tell me the truth, I think I'd like to hear it from you."

Then he was silent, listening, but Kara could see his grip on the handset tighten. Then his lips flattened and he said coldly, "You perpetuated a fraud against me on my own ship. You suborned at least one of my officers into lying to me. You stole a baby from her parents, one of them my human XO and another of my officers." Then his gaze lifted to meet the Agathons' transported expressions of joy and disbelief, and he nodded once slowly then his lips tightened in reaction to something Roslin said. "No, that's not good enough. I trust her, and that's all that matters. Hera Agathon will not be leaving the custody of her parents, now or ever, do I make myself clear?" Then he hung up, gave a little kiss to Hera's curly hair, and set her gently on the floor. "Go to your mother and father, Hera," he murmured.

Hera looked up at Sharon and Helo. She took a few unsteady steps forward, as if she hadn't just been all over the hangar deck like a mouse, then she said clearly, "Mama."

"Hera!" Sharon was up like a missile and swept Hera into a tight hug, her eyes running with silent tears. Helo knelt beside them on the floor, his big arms enclosing them both.

Adama watched them for a moment. The normally grim, craggy lines of his face were relaxed and a small smile toyed at his lips. "That's all the proof I need, right there," he murmured. But then his eyes lifted and he looked at the president's aide. The smile disappeared. "Starbuck, escort Ms. Foster back to her Raptor to return to _Colonial One_."

"Yes, sir," Kara acknowledged. "With pleasure."

Foster folded her hands, took a breath, and then stood up, lifting her chin proudly. She knew she'd been found out a liar, but made no effort to apologize for any of it. Not that either of the Agathons appears interested in her apology, or even looking at her, but it irked Kara nonetheless.

The chime on the admiral's door rang, and the admiral called, "Come!"

The hatch opened and Cottle came in. He took only a moment to figure it out, with the Agathons together on the floor, and then nodded. "Well, that's good then," he muttered.

"Doctor," Adama greeted him, sounding strained. "You owe the Agathons an explanation. Captain Thrace, you're dismissed."

"Yes, sir." Although Kara would give a lot to listen to that conversation, she gestured for Foster to precede her out the door. "Let's go."

Halfway to the docking bay, Foster suddenly explained, "We did it for her protection. The president knows she's important, she has a destiny, Captain Thrace. She's the shape of things to come, that's what President Roslin says. We can't let the Cylons get their hands on her."

Kara listened and shook her head in disgusted amazement. "Wait, let me get this straight: to keep her safe from Cylons, you stole her from our one Cylon ally - very nearly turning her back against us - and brought Hera to New Caprica where she could've been abducted or killed by the rest of the Cylons. Good job," she said with mocking approval.

"We didn't know," Foster protested.

Kara snorted. "You did, too. Sam told Roslin something terrible was going to happen on New Caprica. She didn't believe him, but she knew. So that doesn't fly with me."

Foster looked at her curiously. "Is that how you knew? Did he tell you?"

And it was with immense satisfaction that Kara could look her right in the eye and tell her, "I saw it in a dream."

* * *

After she deposited Foster in the hangar bay to board a Raptor back to her ship, Kara went to the ready room to see if Lee had updated the board yet for tomorrow's assignments.

He was there, examining the roster with a deep thoughtful frown. "Hey, need help?" she asked.

He shrugged and shook his head. "Not really." Then he caught the look on her face. "You look awfully happy about something. What's up?"

She grinned. "Hera Agathon's still alive, Lee. She's back with Helo and Sharon, so you might want to give them a few days off to get settled."

He blinked at her as if she'd spoken in another language. "I'm sorry, what? Their baby died, didn't she?"

"Nope." Kara leaned against the nearest seat. "Roslin faked it and Hera's been living under another name on New Caprica this whole time. The admiral is not happy about it."

"I ... can imagine," Lee said. "Oh my gods."

"And she recognized Sharon. Looked right at her and called her mama even though they last saw each other when she was just hours old. It's... a miracle," she finished more softly, and her eye fell on the name down in the lower right corner of the board. She needed her own miracle, too.

Lee said, with a shrug, "Must be the Cylon blood, somehow. Well, I'm glad we have more pilots now to cover for them. Speaking of," he said, and looked uncomfortable, "I think it's time to erase this, don't you?"

She realized he was pointing right where she was looking: 'Oracle: MIA' on the board. "No. Leave it."

"Kara, it's been five months..."

"He's not dead," she returned forcefully.

"Just because some Cylon told Athena that, doesn't make it true," he protested. "They were just frakking with her, and with you. Don't let them get into your head like this."

She shook her head adamantly. "No."

He persisted, "You saw the dradis, you heard him say he was punching out.... And we know Cylons don't take prisoners."

"Boomer said they did."

He let out an exasperated groan. "C'mon, Kara! She tried to kill my father! You can't believe a word she says."

Not that she wanted to, entirely, since Boomer had also told Athena that she thought Sam was dead. Kara shook her head. "No, it's not just that." But she stopped there, knowing Lee was never going to believe the dreams. For a man so idealistic, he had very little faith in things that he couldn't see. She flared in sudden anger, "Just leave it. What difference does it make?"

He gave up and pulled his hand back from erasing the callsign. "I don't think it's good for you to keep holding on like this, but all right."

He clearly thought she was still just indulging in denial and wishful thinking. But she remembered the Sam in her dreams promising they'd find each other again.

They were all living in a time of desperation but also wonder and miracles, and she was getting stronger in her faith. The gods were not done with her, and they were not done with Sam.


	6. Spread the Joyful News

Sam had no idea how the word had spread, though he guessed it must have gotten into the datastream somehow, but first thing in the morning, Sharon and Caprica were waiting for them in the dining room.

Caprica gave Thea a hug and a kiss, grinning, "You are blessed, sister."

"It's a miracle," Sharon said.

"A sign of favor from God that our cause is just," Natalie agreed, embracing Thea as well, as another group came in.

Simon nodded and even though his lips turned upward only a little, it was enough to make him look profoundly pleased. "Indeed. We are following the correct path."

Leoben added, "Hera led the way, and she opened a door that has allowed for the continuation of our race in the way God intended."

Sam spread jelly on his crackers for breakfast and was amused that his own contribution was being utterly ignored in all the excitement about a second pregnancy. But that gave him the chance to watch the ebb-and-flow around Thea -- who came to congratulate her, and who did not.

None of the Fives came forward, though two different ones entered the dining room to look toward Thea and Sam and then left again. They didn't look pleased at all -- though how could they be? The child cemented this faction into believing they had their god's favor.

But D'Anna's reaction was the most disturbing to him. She knelt on the floor before Thea's chair and held out her hand, with an intense, eager glint in her eyes. "Sister, may I?"

"Sure, if you want," Thea said with a confused shrug. "There's nothing to feel yet on the outside. I merely know there's a new life there, and I feel the physical changes in my body. It's very early."

"Nonetheless, this is a miracle," D'Anna murmured and placed her hand gently on Thea's stomach. "A child for us all."

Sam tensed with the instinct to tear her hand away. Her words were reverent, but her expression was greedy. It wasn't a child for everyone - it was his and Thea's. "It's going to take awhile," he reminded her, not able to keep the sharpness out of his voice. "Almost a year for a baby to be born."

Baby. Damn, saying the word seemed to clog something in his chest. He cleared his throat and forced a smile. "Hopefully that's time enough to find a whole lot of diapers."

Thea put a hand over his and smiled. "We'll have plenty of time to learn what to do."

Simon added, in what Sam hoped was an attempt at being reassuring, "We know a great deal about the many things that can go wrong."

The reminder of the baby farms made Sam a little ill, but at least the Cylons weren't quite as ignorant about pregnancy as they were broken legs, even if it was worrying to realize they'd never brought a pregnancy to term successfully.

"Another hybrid child is a gift of God," Caprica declared. "A reward for your love. I have faith everything will be well."

Another Three entered, followed by a Five and Six. At first Sam figured they were coming to visit Thea, too, but they were urgent, addressing everyone. "We have a problem."

Doral stared at Sam accusingly. "We've lost contact with the baseship we sent to investigate the pulsars in the nebula. We received a garbled distress call, then silence."

The Three demanded, "What did you send them into, Anders?"

He stood up. "Nothing."

"'Nothing' doesn't attack a baseship," she retorted and turned on her heel. Doral followed her, glancing over his shoulder to glare at Sam as he left.

"Command center," Natalie said, and followed them.

Sam and Thea trailed behind, with Sharon, Caprica, and Leoben.

The command center was busy: every datafont had someone there reading data. Thea pushed her way in and put her hand in the liquid to get a reading, too.

"This is impossible," one of the Fives spat in incredulous dismay.

Simon shook his head a little. "It is not only possible, it may have been inevitable once we took human form."

"We're not human," Doral insisted furiously. "We're not like them."

"We're enough alike to bear children with them," Thea reminded him and he made a disgusted face.

Simon answered, "God chose this time, this place, to test us. You think it is a coincidence, brother, that we discover this thing which kills the same day we discover the gift of new life among our own?"

Doral looked as if he was going to throw up.

Sam leaned closer to Thea and murmured, "What's happened?"

She shook her head, looking distressed. "The baseship -- it's been infected by some sort of disease."

"It's killing them," Sheryl said from her datafont. "All of them."

"Disease?" Sam repeated blankly. "From what?"

"We don't know," Caprica answered, but couldn't finish.

"This was a trap all along," Doral accused, his gaze flinty.

"They're dying because you sent them there," another Eight added.

Feeling cornered, Sam backed into the datafont and protested, "It's not a trap! I didn't know this would happen!"

"You told us to go there," D'Anna reminded him coldly. "And now the entire baseship is dying."

He was going to object again but the back screen suddenly blanked and changed, catching his gaze. His voice wouldn't come out. He could see the frozen image of a very ill Six, who looked just like Thea. She had blood on her face, and if she wasn't dead, she was dying. Barely visible behind her in the gloom were others, pale and bloody. He stared, caught by some vague memory. Then he realized why that image looked so familiar. It hit like a blow.

"Oh gods, I did know." He reached out blindly for Thea's hand, taking it in his. "I saw this months ago," he murmured. He blinked, remembering his chamalla-enhanced vision, in all its color and horror, especially the part about the suffering, dying Cylons. "I saw them dying. But I didn't know what it was. I didn't know **when**."

"Sam, we know you didn't send them deliberately," Thea reassured him, although not all the rest of them seemed nearly so sure of him.

Simon had more bad news to report. "It appears to have infected their Hybrid as well. If an infected Cylon dies," Simon added, "he might carry the disease into the resurrection ship and the hub. It could spread through our entire race."

Sam frowned, wondering how that could possibly work, but Sheryl added, "The Centurions shut down when the Hybrid was infected."

"And the Raiders and the ship itself, then," D'Anna said. "We're all susceptible."

"Then no Cylon can board that ship without risk of infection. But a human would not be affected," Leoben said and turned to Sam with expectation in his face.

Sam hesitated, as fear curled up in his belly, and he felt queasy. If he was Human, he shouldn't be affected. If he was Cylon, he would die. And … if he wasn't either… he had no idea what would happen.

"Then you can go," Thea turned to Sam, anxious and clutching him. "You can find out what happened to them."

"But if we're enough alike to have a baby..." he objected with a halting gesture to her belly. "How can you be sure a human won't be affected?"

Simon answered, "We were created in your image, but from the Cylon genetic pool. There is overlap, but the process of creating our bodies introduces significant molecular changes. There should be nothing to worry about for you."

That almost made Sam laugh. 'Nothing to worry about.' Right. He licked his lips, knowing he was showing his fear and it might make them suspicious, but he didn't want to go over to that ship. "I'm not a doctor. I don't know anything about diseases."

"You can at least board the ship," Simon told him. "We need to know where this infection came from."

"Unless you don't want to help us, after all," Natalie said, with a chill tone in her voice.

"You know some science," Thea reminded him, more kindly. "You can do it." Her eyes were less encouraging and more imploring, and her grip on him was tight. He had to do it - because not doing it was going to make the others' support fall away from him. Frak.

Glancing at the frozen image of the dying Six, looking so much like his vision - his heart twisted with pity and guilt. Because D'Anna was right - this was his fault. Without him, this wouldn't have happened.

"All right," he said, nodding. "You have a Colonial ship I can fly?"

"We do," Natalie said. "A Raptor."

"And we still have your flight-suit," Thea reminded him. "Just in case."

He took a deep breath, trying to quell the anxiety roiling in his stomach. "Then, let's do this."

They brought him down to a docking bay where there was a Raptor waiting, and Thea handed him his flight-suit. He gave her back his pants and outer shirt, leaving him his underwear and t-shirt, and zipped up the suit. He was chagrined to realize how loosely the suit fit - he still hadn't regained the weight he'd dropped in that cell.

Thea handed him his helmet and brushed his cheek with her hand. "Find out what happened, but don't risk yourself," she murmured.

He didn't tell her that the whole trip was risking himself; he just nodded and made a smile. "It'll be fine."

She leaned forward to kiss him. "Our daughter should know you," she whispered.

The news went through him like a burst of light, and he seized her arm in his free hand. "Daughter? You're sure?"

She smiled, eyes shining, and she nodded. "Come back to us," she murmured and let her fingers trail along his arm as she pulled away and walked down the wing to let him go.

Knowing about the child gave him some hope he wasn't going to get infected, and he carried that hope with him.

* * *

 

He jumped the Raptor into view of the baseship. It was obviously dying. Dead Raiders were floating around, and the ship wasn't rotating, as it  
should be, but instead looked small and shrunken, its arms curved and twisted up like an octopus left on the beach in the sun.

Inhaling a deep breath, he muttered, "Oh gods. This is a bad idea."

"Yes, it is, Samuel."

The unexpected voice during what should have been a solitary mission startled him, and he turned his head to find Kara sitting in the co-pilot's seat. She was wearing Colonial tanks and lounging back, with her feet up on the console. She looked real, but these days that wasn't saying anything.

Since it was completely impossible that she could be Kara, he knew who she had to be. "You're back."

"You don't sound very excited," she observed dryly.

"You visit me in crazy visions or when I'm about to get tortured," he pointed out, "so I'm just wondering which it'll be this time."

She shook her head at him. "So little faith in me?" she teased. Her gaze went back to the front window and the dying baseship. "You're not going in there, are you?"

"Yes, I am."

She made a sort of disapproving humming noise.

He asked, "Shouldn't I?"

She didn't answer the question. "Why do you want to go?"

"Because I sent them here. They're dying because of me."

She murmured, "They're not the first, Samuel. They won't be the last."

"Maybe not, but I did this. They're dying, for good, without resurrection. And I have to find out why."

She said nothing for a little while, then turned her head to face him and warned, "There will be consequences, if you go on board. To you."

"There always are."

"No," she said sharply, and her face was hard in a baleful warning. "Not like this. Listen to me. If I have to intervene, it will change you." Her expression softened and she reached across to brush his cheek. "You're mortal, Sam. Knowing too much is a burden and you're not ready for it yet."

He swallowed hard and watched the listing baseship and the dead Raiders aimlessly floating. He took her seriously; whatever she was, she was clearly connected to the same force giving him visions. The thought of stronger visions, and possibly losing his mind, filled him with fear. But there were Cylons dying on that baseship, killed by something which might still threaten his allies and his child unless he found out what it was. He'd already had a vision of this, almost a year ago, and he knew he was going to have to pay the price she demanded.

"I understand. But I have to do it." He scrubbed his hands across his face and through his hair, before lifting his head again to look at the baseship. He remembered the image of the dying Six and thought of all the others aboard. They were dying without resurrection. What happened to their souls, if their souls couldn't resurrect in new bodies? But above all, he realized, he **cared**; their lives and their deaths mattered to him. In a softer voice, he added, "They're my people, aren't they?"

"There's the one I love," she murmured. "Yes, they are. They always have been, and in more ways than you understand right now." She swung a leg across his and settled on his lap. Her weight felt real, and her touch was warm. "I miss you," she whispered, hovering above him. Her face and body were familiarly Kara's, and she touched him like Kara did, so even though he knew better, he could pretend she was really there.

"I miss you, too." He shuddered with sudden need for her, trying to kiss her and touch her, as his hands rubbed her bare arms and slid under her tanks. Her hips rolled against him until the layers of cloth between them were too much. She opened his flight suit and rose up enough for him to push her pants down. She shoved his t-shirt up, out of the way, and the touch of her hands on his bare stomach was like fire. He let out in a groan when her hand groped inside his undershorts and brought his firming erection out to stroke with knowing fingers. Then still holding him beneath her, she teased him with sliding movements of her hips and rubbed herself on him.

"Kara, gods," he murmured and grabbed for her, trying to coax her to come down on him.

"So impatient," she taunted, but even she couldn't keep up the teasing for long, as her breath grew short and her fingers trembled on his skin. Then finally she took her hand away and eased herself down on him, arching her back in pure delight.

Her movements were slow and steady, and he wanted to go faster, but he had no leverage in the chair, at the mercy of the rhythm she wanted.

"You want it, baby? You want it? Then you gotta stay with me. You feel so frakking good."

His eyes were slits and wanted to roll back in his head, as she kept him hanging on the edge, grinding into him. He could feel the sweat pooling in the back of his shirt, under the flight suit, dampening his face and neck, as he started to lose it.

She came first, her rhythm breaking into frustration and want, and she tightened on him so hard he couldn't breathe. He held her down, skin to skin, straining into her, as the pleasure shuddered through his whole body like a wave.

Then, energized, he pulled her down to kiss her hungrily. "You're so beautiful." But then he seized her shoulders keeping her above him, so he could look at her face. "Who are you? Really?"

She traced a finger down his nose, smiling mischievously. "Once you called me your angel."

"I did?" he asked in confusion, trying to remember ever calling Kara that, and she shook her head a little and put a finger across his lips.

"Hush. It's there inside you. And you'll get it back, sooner than you want. But remember, I'm always with you," she told him and then, with one last brush of her lips against his, she disappeared.

He blinked, shocked by the abrupt abandonment. Straightening up in the chair slowly, he looked around the empty Raptor. His flight suit was open, shirt and undershorts shifted out of the way, and he felt that sweaty lassitude of a good frak still humming through his body. But he realized he didn't smell Kara at all. It was a little embarrassing to realize anyone looking in the cockpit window of the Raptor would've had a fine view of him squirming around, as his imaginary Kara frakked him.

Yet, if he'd been projecting her and really been getting himself off alone, he should have to clean up more. So had she been there in some physical way, after all? What would someone else have seen if they'd watched?

Sighing, he realized there was no point in wondering about questions that no one was going to answer, and pulled his clothes back where they should be and zipped his flight suit. Then, not sure whether the visitation had made him more nervous or less, he piloted the Raptor toward the baseship docking bay to do what he'd come here to do.


	7. In the Place Between

He piloted the Raptor into the lower docking bay of the basestar, avoiding the dead Raiders. The lights were flickering in the tunnel, and he had to use the Raptor's own landing lights to find the platform. When he was down, he checked all the seals on his flight-suit and opened the Raptor doors.

The docking bay tunnel hadn't closed and repressurized, so it was still exposed to vacuum, but the gravity was enough to keep him from floating away as he made his way to the main hatch.

Inside, the dim reddish light hid nothing of the horror of Cylons all over the deck in various states of madness and death.

He hurried to the Four still upright, though he was retching with painful heaves. "Simon. What happened?"

"You did this," the Four whispered. "You..."

"No," he answered helplessly, "no, it was an accident. I'm sorry; I didn't know. I didn't know. Please, what happened?"

The Four closed his eyes and struggled to speak. "Found ancient beacon. Brought it aboard.... disease. Infected us all... You... you did this," he insisted, voice fading as he listed to one side. "You..."

Sam shook his head in helpless denial and guilt, watching the life go out of him. No resurrection for him, not for any of them, with the resurrection ship out of range.

The blonde Six was already dead, but he knelt at the side of the black-haired model. "Can I help you?" he asked. "I'll get you water..."

"You…" she coughed and he flinched, thinking she was blaming him, too. But she reached up with her free hand, imploring. He took it in his gloved hand and squeezed.

"You're not alone," he whispered.

"I see you," she murmured, and her eyes were big and shiny with awe, but looking past him. "I see you. You're so bright…"

She died, still looking beyond him, at something he couldn't see. He took a moment before gently putting her hand down.

An Eight murmured, "Sam… " And he went to her, pushing her wet hair off her face.

"I'm here." She wasn't the last he comforted either, going from Cylon to Cylon, holding their hands or staying at their side until they were gone into death.

"Anders…" He looked down to see one of the Fives - usually immaculate suit covered in bile and blood. He realized, when he knelt down, that this was the same Five who had beaten him in the cell. He braced himself for an attack and accusation that he'd killed the Cylons, but had a shock.

"I never saw it before…" Doral whispered, looking up at him. "But … now, projecting, I see you - the truth," he struggled to get the words out. "Forgive me," he murmured, fading. "I didn't know… forgive me…"

There was no way Sam could refuse such an anguished plea. "I forgive you, Aaron," Sam murmured. "The others are waiting for you."

Doral's expression smoothed into peace and he died.

Sam eyed the beacon, squatting on the deck like a giant dark toad, and decided he should first see if there was anyone he could save, though he was painfully sure it was too late.

He made his way to the control center, losing his bearings only once, and found flickering lights. It was deserted except for a Two, sitting up against the datafont. He saw Sam enter, coughed and said hoarsely, "I was right about you. You found your destiny and it is glorious."

"You were on Caprica," Sam realized then frowned. "No, you're different."

"Still so human," Leoben chided, weak but amused. "I remember."

Sam got it then: Leoben had the downloaded memories of the one Sam had shot, even though he wasn't the same individual. Sometimes that still confused him that they could share memories, yet retain individuality.

Leoben grimaced in pain. "Destroy the ship," he requested. "Don't let this spread to the others."

"How? How can I destroy it?"

"Datafont." He coughed again, and Sam held his shoulder to keep him steady. When he raised his head again, there was blood on his lips and Sam knew it wasn't going to be long. "Tell the ship to die."

"But I can't - I don't know how--"

"You are one of the Five," Leoben reached out a hand and grabbed Sam's forearm with a surprisingly tight grip. "The ship - will listen."

Instinctively Sam wanted to deny and pull away, but he did neither. "How do you know?" he asked instead.

"The light…" Leoben whispered, gazing at him. "You shine… in the place… between…"

Sam leaned closer. "What are the Five?" he asked urgently. "I don't know what I am, Leoben. Help me understand."

"Eternal," Leoben whispered pushing the words out, with each hard-fought breath, looking straight at Sam. "Sacred. Hands of God. … the cycle before… If only … you could remember.…" His voice trailed off and his grip loosened. Sam caught his hand before it could fall to the floor.

"Leoben?" Sam asked, anxiously, but in a moment, Leoben breathed his last.

Sam sat back on his heels, unable to move, all the deaths heavy on his shoulders, pressing him to the floor. He shut his eyes, trying to simply breathe and not think of what Leoben meant. If Leoben even knew what the frak he was talking about.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed himself up to his feet. He'd seen the others do this often enough, and been hugely tempted to do it all the time, but had never dared when someone could see him. Slowly he peeled off his glove and tucked it in his pocket. Inhaling another deep breath, he put his hand in.

The liquid was cold and gel-like, thicker than the watery stuff on a healthy basestar. When his palm touched the bottom plate, it felt like frozen glass, prickling his skin. Nothing happened.

He looked down at his hand, wondering if he wasn't the right sort of Cylon or not a Cylon at all, or if the ship was just too damaged. But then he remembered how he had felt when communicating with the Raider, and lowered his eyes to concentrate, trying to feel that same sense of connection.

The prickling sensation in his skin increased and the panel lit up. The light flickered and he focused on his hand, the liquid, and the panel beneath it, trying to will a connection.

With an abruptness that made his whole body twitch, there was a display before his eyes - like a computer viewscreen spanning the width of his vision. Colored lines and words were written on air, and he reached out with his other hand, as if he could touch them. But of course the image wasn't real at all - it was in his head, he realized. He was seeing it because the connection was putting it in his brain and his brain was making him believe he was seeing it with his eyes.

It was all Cylon projection - a virtual reality overlaid on top of true reality.

He gulped hard, trying to steady his nerves. He could connect with the baseship that meant he was a Cylon. He was touching the infected baseship. He could now be infected himself. His hands trembled and he nearly lost the connection, before pressing his hand down again.

Ignoring the readouts he didn't understand or seemed irrelevant, he looked at the virtual screen and focused on "self-destruct" and images of the basestar blowing up. The ship was sluggish and the screen faded in and out. "Self-destruct," he said aloud and his eyes scanned the screen, searching for a place he could input a command, but the screen kept changing too fast to understand.

The image disappeared, returning a moment later, frayed with static. But he knew he'd accessed the right place and could see where to input a time. He didn't have to say it aloud - merely thinking an hour was enough to fill in the time and set the clock running.

He hoped that was enough time to get himself clear, but not so much the Colonial Fleet would find this place. Then he pulled his hand out of the goo, wishing they'd thought to put a towel rack nearby. At the rear of the room, he kicked the panel to open the sink and washed his hands as thoroughly as he could, all the while fearing it was too little, too late.

After that, he moved the beacon to the docking bay and used the small hand welder to torch the surface - the infectious slime withered and burned. Using the medical and survival kits from the Raptor, he used both the alcohol and bleach in turn on the other surfaces. He kept an eye on his watch, but kept going as thoroughly as he could. When the readouts were clean, he loaded the big metal thing into the Raptor and launched.

He piloted the Raptor out into space, a distance from the basestar. He watched the baseship explode into grey dust through the window, sparing a thought for all the Cylons who died with it.

He moved aft so he could put the beacon back in space. His hand stopped before opening the hatch and he glanced back. It seemed to loom large in the room, and he knelt beside it. His gloved hand stretched out to touch it, stroking along the pitted metallic surface. But somehow it wasn't enough. He wanted to touch it.

Licking his lips because he knew this was stupid and risky, and yet he couldn't stop, he pulled off the left glove and laid his bare hand on the metal skin.

A sharp electrical shock passed up his arm and down his spine, shooting like lightning out to his fingers and toes. He jerked his hand away with a gasp.

"Frak, you're an idiot, Anders," he muttered to himself, shaking his tingling hand vigorously.

He put his glove back on and, anxious to get rid of the thing, he tethered himself to the Raptor, opened the hatch and pushed the beacon outside into space. It floated away and he watched it until it lost the glow from the nebula and he couldn't see it anymore.

He closed the ramp again, sealed up the ship, and went back to sit in the pilot's chair. He looked out at the nebula and its "blinking" pulsar, and he knew Roslin would use her knowledge of the sacred scrolls to find the way.

The Colonial Fleet was coming. He had a Raptor, he had life support, and he already knew he could do without food for quite awhile. He could wait for them. When they appeared, he could set down the Raptor in the docking bay of Galactica. He could find Kara. He could go home. He didn't have to go back to the baseship.

He had a choice.

But as he lingered, he knew he didn't. Not really. The thought of his child growing inside Thea called him back, even more than knowing his path was with the Cylons. He wanted to see the baby and take her to Earth, and he couldn't do that if he wasn't with her.

The gods had known exactly what they were doing with the miracle baby - One slender, impossibly strong thread tied him to the Cylons, as surely as Sharon's baby had tied her to the humans, even through her own suffering and sacrifice.

"Gods damn it!" He slammed his palm into the edge of the console, in frustration and annoyance.

But he set the course back to the baseship and back to his path.

The Colonial Fleet would find the beacon, and the hope it represented. There was nothing more he could do for them.

In an eye blink he had left it behind.

 

* * *

 

He halted outside the baseship to report on the wireless. "It was a very old beacon. I think it was put there by the Thirteenth Tribe to mark the way. It must have held that disease dormant for thousands of years, and when the other ship opened it, they were all infected."

"_Where is it_?" one of the Threes asked.

"I left it there. The baseship blew up after I left. They're all gone."

There was a moment of silence and then a Six, maybe Thea -- it was impossible to tell them apart on the wireless - breathed, "_God be with them_."

Then an Eight said, "_Come back aboard, Sam_."

"I can't do that. I had to open my suit at one point. I'll have to stay here in quarantine and make sure I'm not sick and I can't spread it to you."

Then it was Thea for sure, "_But Sam... you can't. We know that_."

He shook his head even though she couldn't hear it. "No, we don't know for sure. I'm not taking the chance. Not with the baby."

He used the time alone to clean his suit and the Raptor interior as stringently as he could until he was lightheaded from fumes. But most of his time was spent in the pilot's chair looking out at space and the baseship rotating slowly on its vertical. The ship had an undeniable beauty to it, shining in the light of the stars and with its own lights, and though he didn't want to admit it, there in the quiet he had no choice but to realize he wasn't afraid of it any more.

They were his people, and his destiny was to shepherd them to Earth. _Galactica_ and the Fleet had Roslin and Kara and Adama to help them; the Cylons had only him. Though he still questioned the wisdom of that decision, there wasn't much point in denying it either.

But brooding over his destiny and higher powers who seemed to think it was fun toying with him only took up so much time. He had enough air and water, but only found one ration bar in the survival packs, so hunger nagged at him, and reminded him of other enclosed spaces.

He closed his eyes and built his boat again - the sun, the waves, the sail creaking over his head. The image came faster this time, snapping into place around him, and except for how perfect everything was, it felt and smelled real. He experimented, building a new projection based on his dives on the reef. He felt the water cool against his skin, and when he opened his eyes, he could see the colors of the coral and the fish, bright in the shimmering sunlight.

The projection saved his mind, letting him be elsewhere, free on the water, at least until something nudged his ship. He opened his eyes to find a Raider right outside the cockpit, with a sense of impatience and eagerness to play flowing to him.

He laughed. "You really are a dog, aren't you? All right, all right. Let's see..."

After some thought, he launched an ECM drone and controlled it remotely, getting the Raiders to chase it and try to shoot it down while he evaded.

When it was time to sleep, his Raider and its squadron kept watch over him, hovering around him and cooing gently into his mind, soothing him past bad dreams and into sound sleep.

* * *

The next day, when he was showing no signs of illness, the Cylons decided they needed to send an experimental subject to find out whether Sam was a carrier. Leoben volunteered, and approached in a Heavy Raider. Sam suited up and opened the hatch. As he waited, his Raider came close enough its wings nearly touched, wanting Sam to come play. Even though Sam knew the Raider wouldn't hurt him on purpose, the idea of 'playing' out in the depths of space untethered sounded a bit too crazy even for him, so he refused regretfully, but stretched out to pat its wing.

But then Leoben was there in one of the Cylons' black flight suits, and the Raider moved to let him in. Sam grabbed his hand and pulled him inside. Leoben was still staring after the Raider when Sam closed the hatch.

When both atmosphere gauges read that the interior had repressurized, Sam took off his helmet. As soon as Leoben lifted his off, Sam shook his head. "You're nuts, you know that? If I'm a carrier, you're dead."

"Better me than the whole ship," Leoben pointed out, setting the case in his hand on the deck. "We need to know, but I think there's little risk." He pulled off his glove and held out his hand, palm facing upward.

Reluctantly, wondering if he was consigning Leoben to death, Sam laid his hand over Leoben's.

_**Something**_ passed across his vision then -- Leoben was still there, but suddenly all Sam could see around them was blue sky, and for a second, the wind whipped at him.

He yanked free, and the instant they weren't touching anymore, the Raptor was there again. He stumbled back. "What -- what was that?"

"What did you see? A new vision?" Leoben asked, staring at him hungrily for revelation.

Sam shook his head and frowned. "I ... don't know. Blue sky I think. So it must have been a planet."

Leoben's expression flickered with surprise, as if the answer was not the one he expected at all. He glanced out the front window, toward the Raiders keeping the Raptor company, and then back at Sam. "You know you can trust me," he said softly. "We are completely alone here. I will not share anything you tell me with the others. Not even my brothers."

"Tell you what?" Sam asked, calmly enough, but his heart had started pounding. Leoben knew something. Sam had just given something away, somehow, with that flash of vision.

"You didn't see a vision -- you entered my projection," Leoben explained. "Only another Cylon should be able to do that and only with invitation. And yet you aren't a Cylon, because the disease doesn't affect you." He frowned more deeply and leaned closer to Sam, staring right into his eyes. "What are you, Sam Anders?"

The question struck Sam right in the chest, as if Leoben had kicked him. He lost his breath and shook his head back and forth, not able to stop until he swallowed down the sudden lump in his throat. "I-- I don't know," he admitted. Turning from Leoben's intent gaze, Sam focused on the space outside and the basestar slowly spinning and shining in the endless dark of space.

He believed Leoben would keep the secret, and that let him confess the truth. Or at least some of it. "I thought I knew, but now..." he trailed off and let out a breath. "I was sure on Caprica. Everything was so clear. I knew what to do; I could fight and get revenge. It was like pyramid, beautiful in its simplicity." He sat down in the pilot's seat, not touching the console, just looking out at the Raiders, who felt protective and yet content that they were there and he was near, as if that was all they needed to be happy.

Leoben said nothing, waiting for the rest. Finally Sam kept going, "Now, my head's all frakked up, and I don't even know if I'm human."

"Truly?" Leoben asked softly. Sam turned in his chair to look at him. Leoben added, when he had Sam's attention, "You're not certain you are human, despite your immunity to a Cylon disease and a hybrid child?"

Sam froze, but then figured it was too late to hide his doubts. "I thought I was," he admitted. "Now? I'm not frakking certain about anything. Look, I was a pyramid player, on the downside of my career. I wasn't special; I was just a guy. I sure as hell wasn't an oracle and I didn't get visitors who exist only in my head." Though if he were honest with himself, he'd sabotaged his career all on his own -- age had slowed him a little, but the stims had done most of it. And for the first time, he wondered if that restlessness had actually been his oracle talent trying to break free and he'd drowned it by partying like the end of the world was coming.

But then he remembered a different Leoben telling him he was one of the Five, and he swallowed hard. "You'd tell me, if I was a Cylon, right?" he asked. "One of the others nobody ever seems to talk about?"

Leoben's eyes narrowed at him and he answered slowly, "To my knowledge, you are not one of the Final Five. That would seem impossible."

Except it was equally impossible for him not to be, and Sam had no idea what to believe anymore. "Gods," he muttered and held his head in his hands. "Maybe I'm on Caprica having a psychotic breakdown and this is all some massive delusion."

"You know that's not true," Leoben said.

Sam sighed. "I know." Which didn't keep him from wishing, though, that he was in a hospital on Caprica: no attacks, no Cylons, no destiny, no torture and imprisonment, no visions... Then he could hope that he'd wake up eventually.

After a little silence, Leoben asked curiously, "Visitors? More than the lion?"

Damn it, he'd meant to keep that back. Sam inhaled a deep breath. "I keep seeing this ... woman. She looks like Kara, but she's not. I first saw her in the cell. She ... appears to me. She claimed my visions come from her."

"An angel of God," Leoben murmured in soft wonder.

Sam remembered how she had said he had once called her an angel and nodded, then shrugged, unsure and uncomfortable. "I don't know," he repeated helplessly. She could just be the product of his mind, like his boat. The boat felt real, and he'd seen her for the first time when he'd projected the boat. And yet, she'd also been here on the Raptor and touched him, and more than that, she'd said things he didn't know. He paused, but Leoben said nothing, quietly waiting for the rest. "She warned me that going to the baseship would change me, somehow."

"And did it?" Leoben asked.

"I guess, maybe. I've never seen Thea's projections before, and I touch her all the time. Or maybe I'm crazy and you're all crazy to think I'm anything special."

Leoben wasn't put off by the attempt at distraction, and even though Sam wasn't looking at him, Sam could still feel his eyes. "Crazy is what humans -- and my brothers and sisters -- call those who see what they cannot," he murmured. "You have been touched by the divine, that much I know for certain. It opened you up to becoming something more."

"I don't even know what's real," Sam whispered. "Lions that don't exist, people who appear out of thin air..."

"Seeing a messenger of god means you are seeing more of reality, not less," Leoben told him. "There's more to our universe than this flesh we wear and the solid metal confines of this ship. Like the Hybrid, you have the gift to see past the illusions all of us keep around ourselves, to what truly is. But you flounder in the stream and you keep trying to claw your way onto the shore, as if you were human. The Hybrid called you a fish, and not only because you are Piconese, I think. A fish doesn't belong on the shore, Sam; a fish belongs in the deeper water of the stream, letting it flow all around you."

That was a horrifying thought, to be completely immersed in the future. He'd be lost. Sam shook his head. "She said I wasn't ready."

"Then I suggest you get ready," Leoben said, a little tart edge to his voice. "You're our oracle, Sam. Your destiny is to show us the path to Earth. We've come this far, but we're not there yet." He moved to the co-pilot's seat and held out his hand again. "Let's see what you can do with this new gift."

Sam stared at the hand before putting his lightly on Leoben's again. He braced for the new surroundings, but nothing happened. His gaze met Leoben's and an awkward stare became an uncertain chuckle. "Maybe it was an accident."

Leoben's fingers curled around his when he would've pulled away. "There are no accidents. I'm trying to bring you in, but you need to reach out to me."

Sam took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, and tried to reach out, as he did with the Raiders. And it still didn't happen. "I have no idea what I'm doing," he complained. "And I feel stupid."

Leoben chuckled. "And I feel as if I'm trying to teach a fish to fly. This is a new situation to both of us. Try again. Picture what you saw before."

This time, Sam looked at Leoben, and imagined the blue sky around him again.

It was breathtaking - like falling, as endless blue sky snapped into place around him. He felt a warm wind in his hair and in his face, and Leoben was at his left, facing him eagerly. "You're here," he said, with satisfaction. "You see it. I knew you could."

"It's..." Sam turned slowly, finding that somehow he could still feel they were touching in reality, while inside the projection, he could let go and look around. "It's amazing."

They stood at the top of a bare, stone cliff beneath a dome of blue and a few white puffs of clouds. Far down below the steep drop, there was a golden landscape of sparse plants and long stretches of sand all the way to the horizon. Heat shimmered in the distance with its false promise of water, while behind him, he saw only rocks and dust, with a few low cacti and brown grass clinging to the cracks.

It was stark, lonely even, but beautiful in a deeply stirring way.

Created reality could be dangerous, he thought - it would be so easy to lose himself in these projections and forget the reality of where he was.

"It feels so real." He peered over the edge at the sheer drop and broken rocks far below. "What happens if you jump off?" he asked curiously.

Leoben grabbed his sleeve and pulled him backward. "Probably nothing. But I'd hate to be wrong."

"You've never tried it?" Sam asked.

Leoben's look this time was heavy with disapproval. "This is a spiritual place, to renew my faith. Not to do something frivolous like skydiving."

"I don't know - I used to feel pretty damn close to the gods when I was running the boat with the wind. I was forbidden by contract to go skydiving, but I've always imagined it would feel like flying," Sam murmured. He moved back to the edge, wondering if he could give himself a parasail and glide off the edge.

"I wouldn't," a woman's voice said behind him. He turned, surprised.

She was there again, sitting on a rock with the wind blowing back her blonde hair. This time, he wasn't fooled at all that it was Kara even though she was wearing Kara's tanks and shorts. Her hair was too long, and she was wearing those mirrored sunglasses again. He didn't speak, as he moved closer, and she grinned up at him.

"Hey, Sammy."

He turned back, but Leoben was no longer there. He narrowed his eyes at her. "Don't call me that. What did you do with Leoben?"

She waved a hand casually. "He's over there. He can't see me."

"So, you are in my head."

She smiled and her bare toes rubbed down his leg. "That doesn't make me not real, does it?"

He glared sourly at her and didn't deign to answer the question meant to confuse him some more. She laughed at his expression, delighted with his annoyance.

He turned away from her, looking at the desert again. It was vast, like space, but there was life, too, as if he stood at the beginning of creation.  
And he realized the scene was familiar. "I've seen this place before. Where is it?"

Her arms wrapped around him from behind, and she put her head on his shoulder, so her breath was on his neck. His question lingered for so long, he thought she wasn't going to answer, but then she murmured, "It's a desert on Kobol."

"I was never on Kobol, though."

"Of course you were," she answered. "Everyone was. Time is a whirlpool, Sam... everything goes round and round..." One finger made a large spiral on his stomach. "Round and round... each cycle is getting shorter and shorter, faster and faster, heading to ... the end." Her finger stopped in the center, nail poking him in the skin.

"You told me I could stop it."

"In each cycle there are a group born with the destiny to try. You're one of them," she agreed. "But you can't do it alone."

Which didn't tell him anything he couldn't guess. But then he frowned at the surroundings and turned around in her grip to look into her eyes. All he saw was the sun glinting from her glasses right back at him. "Wait a second, this is Leoben's projection. How the **hell** does he have a desert on Kobol in his projection?"

She grinned impishly and traced a finger down his nose. "Now you're beginning to understand." Rising upward, she pressed a kiss to his lips. "See you soon, baby."

When he opened his eyes, not only was she gone, he was in the Raptor again, with Leoben staring at him.

"What did you see?" he asked, leaning forward.

"Nothing." More riddles, more non-explanations, more cryptic hints.... so basically, nothing. Sam pulled his hand free and stood up, though there was nowhere to go in the small Raptor interior. But his vision wavered and threatened to go black, and he had to reach for the overhead console as he stumbled, trying to keep his feet. He blinked rapidly, breathing through his mouth to clear the sudden light-headedness.

"Sam?" Leoben gripped his shoulder, steadying him.

"Dizzy. Tell me you brought food. I ate the only ration bar on the whole damn ship yesterday."

Leoben looked a little disappointed that it wasn't a new vision. "Oh yes, of course." He moved backward to the case he'd brought aboard and opened it, fishing through medical supplies to take out some sealed food packets.

They shared three-year-old Colonial Fleet MREs which were only slightly tastier than the foil they came in, but at least it was food. Eating and carefully keeping the conversation to things like who had won the triad game last night was enough to let Sam relax afterward, as he leaned back in the pilot's chair and shut his eyes.

Leoben didn't press him for more, thankfully, and stayed a quiet but oddly comforting presence on the edge of Sam's awareness.

* * *

Leoben followed Sam's wish not to talk about it anymore. Neither of them had answers, and Sam was tired of trying to put the puzzle together when he had only half the pieces. But Leoben's face when he looked at Sam was thoughtful, and Sam knew the questions were delayed, not gone.

But otherwise, Leoben was a good companion to have while trapped in a small space: he didn't mind silence or talking when Sam was in the mood, and Sam found himself talking about his past more than he had with anyone else, drawn out by the curious questions and inexhaustible patience.

But neither of them got sick, and it was time to go home.

Leaving the Raptor he saw Thea and a large group of others, at least one of every model waiting for him in impromptu consensus on the landing platform. He hugged Thea to him tightly, remembering seeing her twins dying and dead, kissing her hair and her lips.

"We're fine," she murmured, caressing his back.

He whispered into her shoulder, all of the death and horror of what he'd seen welling up inside him, "I couldn't help them. I couldn't -- "

"You were there," she soothed. "That helped."

"How do you know that?" he asked.

She smiled at him. "Because it would help me."

But D'Anna interrupted to ask, "Was the beacon destroyed with the other ship?"

Sam met her gaze steadily, determined to be absolutely honest in this. There were things they had to understand. "No. I left it for the humans to find."

"Why?" Drea asked. "Why would you do that?"

"Because he wanted to give it to the humans so they can use it to kill us all," Doral snarled.

Sam stiffened and took a step toward him. "That says more about you than it does me," he snapped. "Do you seriously think I want the Cylons all dead? Even my child?" he demanded furiously, gesturing at Thea. "If I wanted you all dead, you would be, you frakker." He towered over Doral. "So shut up. But Earth is not just for you -- it's for **everyone**. But you're not going to get there until you get rid of your hate, I can promise you that."

"This was a test," Leoben said. "To see if we're ready to make the sacrifices necessary to find the next step of the path."

"Did you find it?" D'Anna asked Sam. "Do you know where we have to go now?"

Sam glared at Doral, knowing he was going to carry word of this to Cavil. "Maybe you're not ready. Maybe I should let the humans find Earth, and take you someplace else."

"You wouldn't," Sharon exclaimed in dismay.

It was so tempting, but she was right. He let out a heavy breath. "No, I wouldn't. Because this is what I'm supposed to do. I know that." He turned in a slow circle to look at all of them. "But let me make sure you understand something: I'm not here to give you what you want. I'm not your **savior**. I'm not here to help you **win**," he said to D'Anna, who curled her lip.

"I'm here to help you reach Earth, that's all. And I know you're going to pay a high price for it. We're all going to pay for it," he added more softly, knowing he was included in that. He'd already paid, and he knew he was going to pay some more. "These who died are just the first. Not all of you are going to see Earth. I know that, too."

By a supreme force of will he didn't look at Thea when he said that, trying not to show his fear that she was going to be one of them.

D'Anna looked uneasy and exchanged a glance with Natalie, and he was glad they were finally starting to understand that what he offered wasn't going to be free.


	8. Finding a Needle and Thread

Kara entered the admiral's quarters, wondering what the summons was about. The admiral was there, with Roslin and Cottle, to her surprise. No one else. She greeted them, feeling puzzled, and at the admiral's gesture, sat on the couch.

"You've run tests on the beacon, Doctor?" Roslin asked.

The beacon? Kara frowned curiously. She knew from Gaeta's tests that the beacon they'd found in the nebula was very old, and almost certainly was a relic of the Thirteenth Tribe. Its power source was still active, and it was still sending out a signal. The pulse was regular but seemed to carry no other information, which everyone had been very disappointed to learn.

Cottle nodded. "Yes. We found organic material on it, small amounts inside and out."

Roslin leaned forward, looking a little excited. "Traces of the Thirteenth Tribe?"

Cottle shook his head. "Much more recent than that. I found intact cells, and there was enough to get a DNA match." He glanced at Kara, who knew what he was going to say the moment before he said it, "Lieutenant Anders handled it."

Kara could only stare, trying to think. He was alive. This was **proof**. Real tangible evidence, not just possible Cylon tricks, that those four months of hell and that little flicker of doubt and denial and **hope** had been right all along.

"I thought the lieutenant was killed at the beginning of the occupation," Roslin said, frowning in confusion. "How is that possible?"

"Lieutenant Agathon learned on New Caprica that Anders was taken prisoner," the Admiral answered, rather stiffly. He was still angry about Hera, Kara thought. "But we've had no confirmation of that until now."

Roslin didn't let his annoyance bother her. "So then he's been a prisoner all this time. But he touched this artifact?" Roslin asked, shaking her head. "How? Why?"

The admiral had no answer.

"It was very clean," Cottle added. "The interior had some other denatured organic residue. I'd guess they had him decontaminate it. Though I don't know why they bothered, since it ended up back in space. But for whatever reason, after it was clean, he rubbed his skin on the outside," he sounded disapproving at the foolishness.

But Kara had an idea why he'd touch something stuck in space for millennia with his bare hands. "It's a message to us. So we would know he's alive," Kara suggested. She could imagine scenarios of how that beacon had gotten back in space for the Colonies to find, and none of them ended well for Sam. Surely the Cylons hadn't given it up easily. "And to tell us the Cylons got here first."

Roslin nodded slowly, frowning in thought. "So they're ahead of us. How much?" she asked Cottle.

He shook his head, shrugging. "Hard to say, but not long. Days. A week. Not more than two, probably."

Kara's gaze swung to the admiral's painting of the First Cylon War, staring at it blindly. So close. If they could go a little faster, they could catch up...

"We know something else," Adama added. "If they're ahead of us but on the same course, they're trying to find Earth, too." His eyes went to Kara, and she could see he knew about the rest of it, how D'Anna had said the Cylons knew about Sam's gift. They were keeping him alive to get the way to Earth from him.

It made her stomach hurt imagining it, and so she tried to push it away, saying, "They know the Sacred Scrolls, too. They could've used the same clue we did."

She didn't like the way Adama's face seemed to have the words like "months of captivity" and "torture" and "no choice" floating around on it, but at least he didn't say them aloud.

Then she realized she knew a lot more than she had before, which meant she could finally **do** something. She snapped straight. "Sir, I request permission to plan a rescue extraction of Oracle."

Adama didn't say anything for a moment, and Roslin butted in, "Can we put the whole Fleet at risk for one man?"

Adama's eyes cut to hers, glasses flashing. "I will not leave one of my men a prisoner of the Cylons, if I can get him free." His gaze returned to Kara. "Request granted, Starbuck. You plan the op and I'll give you a go-no-go." He lifted a hand before she could rise. "On one condition: you give me your word that if the answer's no-go, you'll abide by it."

She hesitated only a moment. "Yes, sir."

"Then you're dismissed. Let's bring Oracle home."

"I will, Admiral," she promised, and left.

* * *

Athena agreed to help when Kara told her what was happening. "I'm glad it's true," she said, pushing the little model baseship across the table of the situation room.

"Yeah," was Kara's only acknowledgment. Getting him back, that was the important thing now. "A single baseship is no match for _Galactica_. So, let's say we disable the baseship and board. What kind of resistance would we see?"

"Centurions. Each ship carries a different number, ranging from fifty to hundreds. Only about twenty are active at any given time, though. We would have a few minutes before the rest could join the fight. Also, each ship has a resident population of about thirty, maybe forty."

Kara nodded, pleased. That was do-able. "Where's the brig?"

Sharon shook her head. "There is no brig. He could be anywhere in the residential core."

"Frak." Kara tapped the baseship model with a finger, thinking. It wasn't as big as _Galactica_, but that was still a lot of ship to search. "Could you do that thing you did before with the launch keys, to connect to the ship and find him?"

"If I was onboard, yes, I could look in the datastream," Sharon agreed.

"Okay, you'll have to be in the boarding party then." She made a note on her paper, and then felt eyes on the back of her neck and turned to see Lee coming in.

She folded her arms, feeling vindicated, and announced, "Sam's alive. Doc Cottle has proof."

"I heard," he said and came closer. "I wanted to say I was sorry. You were right."

Which was good to hear, but she certainly wasn't going to tell him that. "Well, will wonders never cease? Lee Adama, admitting I'm right?" she mocked.

He opened his mouth to rise to her bait, and then shut it again, with a small sigh and started over. "I changed Oracle's status to POW," he told her, and she was unprepared for the sharp jolt of pain hearing that gave her, even though it was a lot better than KIA. "And you have whatever help you need. But, I also have to remind you that the current mission for scouting food sources has to come first."

"I know that." It wouldn't do much good to rescue him and bring him back to a starving fleet. The fleet was already rationing everything. They'd left a lot of things, including food, back on New Caprica.

He held up a hand. "All right, just making sure. I'll leave you both to it, then. Let me know when you've got a plan. Lieutenant," he greeted Athena briefly before leaving.

In the silence that followed, Kara stared down at the small model basestar. POW. She knew what the Cylons had done at New Caprica to prisoners -- it stared at her every time she looked at Tigh and his single eye or that empty place on the deck where Cally should've been. "Sharon... what are they doing to him?"

Sharon didn't answer for what felt like forever. "I don't know. But one of the things Cylons understand very well is how pain motivates humans. I doubt they've done nothing."

It wasn't what Kara wanted to hear, but it was nothing she didn't expect. "I dream about him," Kara confessed. "Vivid dreams. True dreams. Like you with Hera, they've told me he's alive, since New Caprica. But in them, he'll never tell me if he's hurt or how to rescue him."

"You've been dreaming of Sam?"

She toyed with the baseship. "Almost every night he comes to me - sometimes my old apartment, sometimes here, sometimes a temple I've never seen... and we have sex and he tells me he's alive. And even though I know in my dream that I'm dreaming, it's **real**. It's -- hard to explain," she faltered, not knowing the right words to explain.

But Sharon was nodding her understanding. "In my dream of Hera, I kept chasing her through a --"

"A theater," Kara interrupted.

Sharon's eyes widened in astonishment. "How do you know that?"

"I dreamed of it, too," Kara said. "I saw both of you. That's how I knew Isis was Hera. It was a message from the gods, to get Hera back to you."

"Thank you for listening," Sharon murmured. "I have my baby girl back. And she's happy and healthy, and we're a family. It's... everything I ever dreamed of, Kara, thanks to you." She reached out and squeezed Kara's arm lightly. "We'll get Sam back for you. He said when he punched out that he'd see you again," Sharon reminded her. "And you will. He knew about Hera, and he knew about this. Have faith."

"I do." How could she not? The dreams had sustained her until now she had proof. And now she had the best gift of the gods by far -- now she could fulfill her promise to rescue him.

 

* * *

In the ready room, Kara addressed the gathered pilots from behind the podium after a deep breath.

"Some of you who were on New Caprica may not know that Sam Anders became a pilot, call sign Oracle, or that he and I were flying CAP when the Cylons came. His ship was destroyed by a Heavy Raider. He punched out in time, but the Fleet had to jump and we couldn't go back. He was presumed killed. However, as many of you have heard by now, Doctor Cottle found traces of Oracle's DNA on that beacon we picked up from space. That means three things: first, Oracle's alive. Second, he's a prisoner of the Cylons. And third, we're going to rescue him. We know the Cylons aren't far ahead of us and they're on roughly the same course. But in order to carry out a rescue we have to know exactly where that baseship is. _Galactica_ has to stay with the fleet, so I need Raptors to jump ahead and try to find it.

"I know the odds aren't good of running across them. I know it's like hitting a needle in a moving haystack. This is in addition to the food source search, so it's purely volunteer basis. But... if we find that ship, then we will trap it, and we will disable it, and either they give him to us or we board it and we take him back." Her fingers tightened around the podium and she felt that touch of absolute confidence as she vowed, "I will bring him home. If you want to help do that, then see me and I'll give you your coordinates to search."

Before she'd even stepped from behind the podium, there was a rustling noise, and when she looked up, she saw that everyone in the room had stood up.

Her mouth dropped open in surprise, and she caught Duck's eye. He glanced over his shoulder at the other pilots then smiled at her. "I think I speak for everyone, Captain -- we're in."

Barolay was standing of course. Hotdog and Kat and Ninja, they'd known Sam, they'd flown with him, so that made sense. But... She glanced at Redwing, who had never even met Sam, and frowned at him in confusion.

He answered simply, "He's one of ours, Captain. I saw what those bastards did to prisoners on New Caprica."

Kara's breath caught in her chest. Her gaze flicked to the side and saw Lee standing there, too, just inside the door. He nodded once when he saw he'd caught her eye.

She looked away hastily and forced herself to breathe and square her shoulders. "Thank you all. Good hunting."

Then she got the hell out of there before anyone said something that would get to her even more.

* * *

Finding a needle in a moving haystack was probably generous, Kara reflected glumly, looking at the display showing her results of a week of searching. She knew where the Cylons weren't, but not where they were.

Hearing a footstep in the door she looked up to see Helo coming in. "Hey."

He leaned over to see the screen displaying the overlapping circles that represented each Raptor's dradis bubble. "How's it going?"

"Space is big," she muttered irritably. "But it's not this frakking big. One of the Raptors should've tagged them on dradis."

"Maybe they're not that close to us," Helo suggested with a squeeze of her shoulder. "Or maybe they were jumping. Dradis won't catch them if they're not in real-space."

"I know, I know. Damn it." She let out a huff of a breath and rolled her head and shoulders, trying to loosen up. And, as she had hoped, Helo took the hint and rubbed her shoulders. She shut her eyes and sighed. "Now I know what Sharon sees in you... "

"Funny, Thrace." But he didn't stop. "Kara, we know they're out there. We'll find the ship."

"I know." She had faith she would eventually, but she wanted 'eventually' to be right frakking now. It had already been too long. She changed the subject to something less annoying. "How's Hera doing?"

She could hear the smile in his voice. "Great. It's... amazing. A few nightmares, but hell, who doesn't have those?"

Kara froze. She didn't - not anymore. Her dreams the last two weeks had been ordinary - surreal and quickly forgotten. She hadn't had one of those painfully real dreams since the beacon had come onboard _Galactica_. She hoped it was because they'd found the beacon and physical proof Sam was alive; and not that something had happened to him.

Helo continued to prattle on about Hera, and Duck's kid Sammy, and how they were gonna get married someday or some such parental silliness. Kara let the words wash over her, until Helo mentioned something about Baltar.

"Wait, what was that?"

"You hadn't heard yet?" Helo asked. "He's in the fleet somewhere."

She frowned. "Gaeta said he'd been left on New Caprica."

"Apparently not. Or else someone else is using his name, agitating against Roslin. But he's accusing her of food hoarding, which, you know I hate her, but that's just stupid enough to be Baltar. Anyway, the main thing is he's claiming how Hera's going to lead us to salvation because she came back from the dead."

Kara chuckled, shaking her head. "Where the frak did he get that? And people are believing it?"

Helo shrugged, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "Some, I gather. So the admiral's put some extra marines around her at daycare. I don't know ... I guess I'd rather people believe she's something good than a freak. But still, I hope they find and arrest his ass soon."

"Yeah, no kidding."

* * *

That chance came a week later when word reached the admiral that Baltar was hiding on the _Prometheus_. Kara still chortled at the memory of Gaeta's face - he really had been sure Baltar was dead.

Adama had put her and Helo in command of the arrest, probably because they were two of the people he could trust not to "accidentally" kill Baltar on the way back, and while she was glad for the trust, she worried at the thought of invading one of her own ships.

Kara tightened the straps of her tac vest and glanced at Helo. He looked grim, jaw muscle tight, as he checked his sidearm.

"You ready?" she asked.

He nodded and shoved the sidearm into its holster. "Yeah, let's do this." He didn't look as if he particularly wanted to. Kara didn't either, especially since for some unfathomable reason, someone on the _Prometheus_ appeared to be sheltering Baltar.

The two of them left the locker room and met the marines, led by Gunny Mathias, on the deck.

Mathias gave them both nods. "Captains."

Kara nodded back. "Gunny. One moment." She turned to the marines. "You all know the orders, but I have to say it again: these are our own people. We are going to arrest Gaius Baltar, not hurt or kill people. If they resist giving him to us, you must use non-lethal force only. The Fleet cannot afford another _Gideon_. You know your orders. Move out."

"Move out!" Gunny ordered and they turned and went into the two waiting Raptors.

Kara's glance met Helo's and they headed into Racetrack's Raptor. "Ready?" Racetrack asked, as Helo closed the hatch.

"Ready, Racetrack. Go when ready," Kara answered.

The two Raptors headed for the _Prometheus_. It was a notoriously lawless place, and if anyone was hoarding, it was probably _Prometheus_, but it had been pretty quiet since New Caprica, when Captain Franks had taken command.

The captain was an older woman, with short blonde hair and a trim, dark blue civilian uniform. She eyed the marines with suspicion. "There's no need for this."

"Yeah, well, better be safe than sorry. Someone's been hiding Baltar on this ship," Helo said.

"I had no idea he was on this ship. He registered with the name Gaius Elantis," she explained.

"And you didn't think to check the name against the Fleet manifest?" Helo demanded impatiently.

"I've been a little too busy to worry about my refugees pretending to be someone else," she snapped.

"Or he bribed you to look the other way," Helo added with disgust. She didn't exactly rush to deny it, and Helo shook his head. "Just take us to him."

"We want this to go smoothly and quietly," Kara added, amused that Helo was being the hardass. Usually he was the good guy and she was the hardass. Baltar talking about his daughter was irritating him more than he was letting on.

Franks nodded once. "Fine. This way." She brought them through a heavy hatch into a wide corridor that stretched the length of the ship. It was packed with crates and boxes, machinery for transporting it, and people moving it around. They all spied the incoming marines and melted out of the way. Kara wondered exactly how illegal it all was, that everyone feared soldiers from Galactica.

Franks led them to a closed hatch and paused. "He's in this compartment," she said, nodding her chin. "He has some young women in there with them. Try not to upset them too much."

Kara wondered if she meant prostitutes and moved toward the hatch with the intent to get this over with.

But Mathias spoke sharply. "Captain! Squad, door."

Chagrined, Kara realized her error and moved aside to let Mathias' men open the hatch and go in. Two of the marines moved in to open the door, and two more went through, weapons drawn. The rest followed with swift efficiency and Mathias followed, shouting, "Nobody move!"

Of course, people did - there was the sound of screaming and yelling, both men and women, as the marines secured the compartment. Mathias ordered both the civilians and her soldiers in that cool voice of hers, and very quickly got everyone settled. Then she called, "Captains. The compartment is secure."

Kara went in, Helo at her heels. There were seven women in various states of undress lined up against the wall, and in the middle of the floor stood Gaius Baltar, heavily bearded as if he hadn't shaved since New Caprica, but it was definitely him. Kara recognized the darting eyes; they went from her to Helo and then off to the side as if he'd heard something.

"Gaius Baltar, we have a warrant for your arrest," Helo declared.

It was as if Baltar didn't even hear him. He smiled at Helo, and started speaking quickly, "Agathon. Yes, I remember. I never really thanked you for doing what you did on Caprica, did I? Yes, I should've, really, though I guess it turned out to be fate, didn't it? Without your trade, you would never have met your lovely wife and then she would've never given birth to the child Hera."

There were gasps from the women by the wall, and Baltar confirmed for them, "Yes, this is Karl Agathon, the father of the only human-Cylon hybrid, who will bring peace between the two races."

Helo stalked up to him, fists tight, but instead of belting Baltar as Kara would've done, Helo grabbed him by the collar. "Shut up. Stop talking about my daughter like that."

Baltar just stared up at him, wide-eyed. "But it's true, Helo, it is, and you know it. She's special. I've seen it, too."

"Seen what?" Kara demanded, taking two steps nearer in spite of herself.

He managed to twist his head to look at her, tightening the collar around his neck. "On Kobol," he gasped. "I saw a crib, bathed in golden light. I heard a voice tell me ... she was going to save us. But then she died, but now she's alive again, and --"

Helo shook him. "She was never dead! She was kidnapped. She was right there on New Caprica the whole frakking time!"

Baltar's eyes darted to the side and then looked straight at Karl, and he was smiling eagerly. His hands grabbed at Helo's tac vest. "Roslin did it," he said. "Roslin stole her. Because she knows the same thing I do, that Hera prophesies a new era of peace. But Laura Roslin fears that era, Karl," Baltar told him. "Laura Roslin needs the war, she needs to hate the Cylons because it gives her power."

"Shut up," Helo threw him at the marines in disgust.

But Baltar wasn't done. "You know I'm right. You know it! Who's the one who stole a baby and stole an election, and --"

"Shut up," Mathias ordered him, and gestured her squad. "Take him out! We don't have to listen to the traitor."

Baltar shouted on his way out, "Helo! You love a Cylon, so did I. That's not a crime! It's how things are supposed to be!"

The marines took Baltar, and Captain Franks followed outside. Two of the women approached. "You're Hera's father."

"Look, whatever he said, she didn't come back to life. She was never dead, she was just missing, okay?" Helo told her impatiently. "So don't listen to whatever self-serving crap he was trying to sell you."

"But she is half-Cylon, right?"

Karl took a deep breath and answered evenly. "Yes. My wife is a Cylon. She left her people years ago to join us." Not waiting for any response, he turned on his heel and stalked out.

Kara followed him quickly, darting a glance up at his face. She knew that tight jaw. "He's just trying to save his own skin, Karl."

"I know that."

"So don't listen."

"I'm not," he said shortly, but she could tell he had, at least a little, when he burst out in the middle of the corridor, "She's just a little girl! We've barely got her back, we're trying to learn to be a family, and we're still in the middle of Roslin and Baltar's pissing contest. Gods damn it!"

Kara patted his arm. "Ignore him. And her. Just be a family."

The news that Baltar had been found went around the Fleet like the plague, with some nearly rioting for his head on a platter. Roslin put him in the brig to wait for things to cool down, and Kara started hearing rumblings of a trial.

Helo took her advice as best he could, going back to Sharon and Hera and his duty. But Kara found she couldn't ignore Baltar entirely, because she knew Baltar was right about Hera being special. Did that make him right about the reason? Was Hera Agathon going to bring peace with the Cylons?

She gnawed at the question in her mind, wondering. The idea of peace at all seemed ridiculous on the face of it. And yet...

* * *

_She was sitting on the carpeted steps of the theater where she had seen Hera. The grand entry hall was deserted, and the main doors leading into the audience were closed. She was about to get up and start looking around, when she heard a voice ease into the silence._

"Hello, Kara."

She turned to see Sam seated on the top step, and she shifted upward to join him. It felt odd and surreal to be sitting there, fully dressed, both of them looking down into the empty hallway with him at her side rather than trying to frak him. Yet, oddly, she felt no desire to, she just wanted to sit there peacefully beside him. She didn't even feel alarmed or curious when she saw that the carpet pattern was formed of little nested circles - red, yellow, blue- repeating onward as far as she could see.

"You had a question?" he prompted, smiling a little.

"Um, yeah, I guess. Does Hera have a destiny?"

His smile widened, but he didn't turn his gaze from the empty hall and the large closed doors. "You don't usually ask questions you already know the answer to."

"She has a destiny."

"Everyone has a destiny," he corrected and added in a voice of soft wonder, "It's beautiful, Kara. There is a stream to life and a pattern of creation that will be wondrous to behold when it's restored to its proper and right shape."

"Restored?" Kara repeated, frowning.

"You will help restore it, Kara. That's your destiny. But there's nothing to fear." He turned to her, and there was something in his blue eyes that put a chill down her back. "It's wonderful."

For a moment she gazed into his eyes, feeling her way to understanding. He wasn't speaking like Sam, and now he didn't quite look like Sam either. "You're not Sam, are you?"

He touched her cheek with his warm fingers and his smile was nothing like Sam's. "I never said I was."

For a brief blinding instant she had the impression that Sam's face was just a mask, and she caught a glimpse of some unknowable power beneath it. Then it was gone.

She blinked and woke up, back in her rack. She stared at the bottom of the rack above her, sleepless, until it was time to rise for her duty.


	9. The Dog Whistle

Sam threw a chip in for the hand and picked up his cards. None of the players talked as they looked at their cards, and in the quiet Sam heard that noise that he'd been catching randomly for a few days now.

"Would someone mind telling me what that buzzing is?" he asked.

Thea cocked her head and frowned at him. "Buzzing?"

He hesitated and everyone fell silent again to listen. "There," he said, catching the faint crackling hiss. "That."

Sharon and Sheryl exchanged a glance. "I don't hear anything strange," Sharon said.

He answered, "I don't know if it's strange. It's just annoying. Like a burst of wireless static or an electrical buzz."

Thea looked apologetic and touched his arm. "I don't hear it."

"You're just used to it, I guess." He shrugged, not wanting to make a big deal of it. He picked up four chips and threw them in the pot for his bet. "Never mind. It's not important."

It was still there, though, and now that he was paying attention to it, it was more distracting. He played badly, recklessly going all-in with nothing, and Caprica called his bet, smiling like she knew he was bluffing.

He tossed down his garbage cards and pushed back his chair. "So much for that." Ignoring the game going on behind him, he decided to track down the sound.

Listening seemed to make it a little louder, but it was still hard to determine a direction. Triangulating on it helped, and he thought it was coming from somewhere inside the wall.

"Sam, what are you doing?" Caprica asked, and he twitched with surprise, realizing she was standing beside him. He hadn't noticed her moving.

"The sound's in there," he pointed to the wall in front him. "C'mon, you have to hear it."

She frowned and shook her head. "I still don't hear anything."

"It's right there!" he insisted, tapping on the wall, just beneath the pulsing red datastream.

But even though she listened, he knew she wasn't hearing it. A cold prickle of unease brushed his neck, and he glanced back at his triad partners, meeting Thea's concerned glance. "None of you hear it?" he asked. "It sounds like this..." He imitated the sound as best he could, an irregular buzzing hiss.

Thea listened and then stood up and joined him. "I don't hear anything." She put a hand on his arm and slid it down to take his hand, tugging him away from the wall. "Come on, it's late. Let's go to bed."

He resisted. "You think I'm hearing things."

She dampened her lips with her tongue and said carefully, "I think you've been through a lot, not very long ago, and you're tired, Sam. That's all."

Caprica added, "It's probably a side-effect of the neural amplifier."

"That was two months ago!" he insisted, but with four of them unable to hear it, he had to admit that it was more likely that the sound wasn't real.

"It'll fade," Thea reassured him.

After shaking his head, trying to get the sound out, he forced a smile. "I hope so, because it's irritating as frak."

He had his second clue that it was imaginary when the sound didn't go away when he left the room, as it would have if the source had actually been in the wall. In the bedroom, it seemed to be coming from overhead someplace, which was even worse. Straining to locate the sound had also given him a pain in both temples, so he grabbed the bottle of pills from the table and popped one, hoping it went to work quickly.

"Sam?" Thea asked in concern, "Is your leg bothering you again?"

He shook his head. "That sound's giving me a headache." He sat on their bed and looked at her. "You really don't hear it?"

"No, I'm sorry." She knelt behind him and rubbed his shoulders, coaxing his head down so she could work her thumbs into his neck. "Goodness, you're stiff here. No wonder you have a headache." Then she stopped, fingers warm on his skin. "Sam, what if this is like the lion? Maybe this is another clue."

He shrugged. "It's a noise. At first it was coming from the wall, now it's up in the ceiling; it's just random. It doesn't make any sense."

She perched on her heels next to him and took his hand. "Neither did the lion until we knew what it meant. And you haven't had a vision since we found the beacon."

Which was true and also disappointing. He hadn't seen "Kara", hadn't seen the lion, and hadn't felt anything mystical happen beyond the vague sense that they were going the right way. It was enough for Thea, who had hid the chamalla and refused to give him any more. But it wasn't enough for him, and it was getting to be not enough for D'Anna and some of the others, who seemed to still believe he could call up a vision whenever he wanted one.

"I don't know. There's not much to it." He didn't like not knowing; it felt as if he was fumbling around in the dark, when he should **know** the answer. He'd known the lion would show him the path, but he didn't know anything about this sound.

"Maybe it's not time yet. Last time the lion was pulled from you -- this could be more how it's supposed to work."

He grunted, feeling rather sour and annoyed about the whole thing. "It's probably just me. A remnant of the amplifier, as Caprica said."

"Maybe." She hesitated, looking at his face, and then changed her tone, teasing, "Or maybe..." her smile broadened as she drew a finger down his chest, "you just need to focus your attention on something else?"

Her finger didn't stop at his belt and he had to agree: her method of distraction worked very well. Whatever that sound was, the sounds she made and the feel of her drove it away.

For a little while.

 

* * *

The next morning he made it all the way to breakfast without doing anything too weird, until a smiling Eight put a bowl of farina cereal down in front of him. The sight of the white mashy stuff pulled him back into the bright cell and the days of pain, and his insides instantly heaved. He shoved his chair back so hard it fell over, and he barely managed to make it to the bathroom before he threw up.

After, he washed his mouth out and stared at himself in the mirror, holding on to the edge of the sink. Gods, he had to get a grip. "Pull it together, Anders," he told himself sternly. "It's just frakking cereal. It's over. Long over. You're fine."

Except for talking to himself and seeing and hearing things that weren't there, but that kind of crazy seemed more normal than freaking out at **cereal**.

The reminder was enough. He caught a tendril of distant sound, like a buzzing coming from the inner wall.

"Oh frak, not again."

But, not wanting to go back to breakfast and face curious or pitying stares, he went out to the main corridor and started to follow the noise, since it seemed to have a clear direction this time.

Thea and Sharon found him. "I told them not to bring you that again," Thea said. "It was a new rotation; they didn't know."

Sharon added, "She didn't mean to upset you. She'd like to tell you she's sorry."

He shrugged off both of them. "I don't blame her. It's my own frakked up head, I know that."

The sound was coming from that way, but also down. That meant down at least one level toward the core.

"What's wrong?" Thea asked.

"I hear that noise again, so I thought I'd follow it," he said, with false casualness. "See where it leads. If anywhere."

The two women tagged after him and he could feel the looks and shrugs they exchanged behind his back, letting him do his crazy thing. He almost wished they'd try to discourage him, since he knew he was acting like a madman, listening to phantom noises. But instead, they helped him navigate the ship and its abrupt dead-ends. He couldn't tell where they were going, as he chased it down identical corridors like a ghost, but it was definitely trying to lead him someplace.

He passed other Cylons on his way, managing the supply rooms and doing maintenance. He passed through a room where three Eights were doing yoga naked and didn't appear to realize he was there. He passed another room where he heard soft Six voices, one sobbing and at least one other comforting her. He paused, wondering if there was anything he could do -- Thea touched his arm for his attention and shook her head.

The sound pulled him on, until abruptly it changed and became a clear tone, straight ahead in the corridor. He broke into a run, leaving his friends momentarily behind.

"Sam - " Thea called after him, but he didn't stop, hurrying through the doorway into a darkened room. By the light of the reddish datastream in the walls and the single light shining down in the center, he saw two Centurions guarding a large metal cage.

Sam stumbled to a stop, staring. There was a man inside the cage, and he stirred, lifting his head at the noise in the entry.

Sam tried to tell himself the prisoner was a Four, not wanting to accept what he was seeing, until the light fell on his face and Sam had to admit he didn't recognize him at all.

"What the hell?" He came toward the man. "Who are you?"

The prisoner said by rote, "Senior Lieutenant Daniel Novacek, call sign Bulldog, serial number 23449." Then he squinted up at Sam with mild curiosity. "You're new."

"You're in the Fleet?" Sam demanded. "What ship?"

Novacek frowned at him, then answered wearily, "You know this already." Then he shrugged. "The _Valkyrie_."

Sam shook his head, not familiar with the name, but it was definitely not part of the Fleet. "How long have you been here?"

"You'd know better than me," Novacek countered. "Forever."

Thea and Sharon entered then, and Sam turned to confront them. "What the hell is going on?"

Thea was looking at Novacek curiously, as though he was an exotic animal in a zoo. "I had no idea he was still here."

"Still?" Sam repeated. "Why is he here at all?"

"We found Lieutenant Novacek attempting to spy on us across the Armistice Line, and he was captured," Thea explained.

"The Armistice Line?" Sam asked, getting a very cold feeling in his gut. "Before the attacks? Are you serious? He's been here **years**?"

She nodded, and her expression turned regretful, as if she'd only just realized what had happened.

"Oh, gods. I want him out of there and sent to _Galactica_," Sam declared.

Thea and Sharon both looked askance at him. "We need a consensus to do that," Sharon said.

"Then get one," he told her curtly. "It's past time this man was freed."

"You'll need to convince them," Thea said. "Sharon and I can't get him free on our own."

"Fine." Sam moved forward and knelt on the floor, facing Novacek. "I'm going to get you out of there."

"Who are you?" Novacek looked confused, and Sam couldn't blame him. "Are you a new Cylon? You look like that guy who played for Virgon."

Sam winced. "Oh, Gods, now I know you've been out of it awhile. I am that guy, though I got traded to the Bucs. I'm Sam Anders of the C-Bucs, and more recently, junior lieutenant Anders, Viper pilot." Not to mention a whole bunch of other things he was keeping to himself. "I wish I'd found out you were here earlier, but I'm going to get you home as soon as I can, I promise."

"You're Colonial Fleet?" Novacek asked. "Then, what are you doing with them? You don't seem like a prisoner..."

"I was, but these Cylons saved me," he answered. "They're different. They follow me now."

"Follow you?" Novacek repeated like he'd gone crazy. "Why?"

"That's complicated." Sam grimaced wryly, and tried to explain. "I... I'm an oracle." And it still felt embarrassing to say that aloud, as if he was admitting to being a con artist. He cleared his throat. "I get visions. One of them led me to them. And one led here. To you. I'll get you out of here as soon as I can."

He stood up, didn't want to leave, but after touching the cage to seal his promise, he left.

Out in the corridor, Thea warned, "It's not going to be that easy. Novacek was a spy. We had every right, even under the treaty, to capture him."

He didn't even pause. "I don't care. He's getting out."

She hurried after him. "I'm just saying the others are going to resist."

"Yeah, well, I'm resisting right back. Call the consensus in the command center. Let's do this."

It was time to test his own power on this ship, and see whether they truly followed him or his cage was just bigger than Novacek's.

* * *

The consensus was made up of four Sixes, Sharon and Sheryl, Leoben, D'Anna, Simon, and a Doral. The fourth Six wasn't one of the usual Sixes around him, and he couldn't remember meeting her before. Since Thea, Caprica, and Natalie didn't seem bothered by her being there, he gave her a brief smile of welcome, but she had her hand in the datafont and didn't notice him.

The sight of Doral still made his chest tight, but knowing that the Doral who'd hurt him was dead helped him stay cool and greet this one with a nod.

Sam faced them, and laid it out flat. "There's a human prisoner on this ship named Daniel Novacek. He's a Colonial officer you captured years ago and he's been held prisoner ever since. I want you to free him and send him to _Galactica_."

"He was a spy," D'Anna not surprisingly was the first one to try to block it. "He knowingly crossed the Armistice Line in a stealth-equipped craft to spy on us."

"Well, you knowingly crossed the Armistice Line to drop nuclear bombs," he snapped back. "Not to mention you must have crossed it even before that to plant your infiltrators," he gestured at Caprica, and very carefully not at Sharon, even thought that was true, too. "So that's no justification at all. He needs to be set free."

"We don't know where the Fleet is," Natalie said.

He looked at her in disbelief and annoyance. "Are you trying to lie to me or do you really not know? Because they're right behind us. A few days, maybe a week. Give him a ship and some food, and he can find them."

"He ought to be dead," Doral said, then turned to Thea. "I'm disappointed in you, Six, revealing the prisoner's presence here to the human. Though I guess I shouldn't be surprised given your closeness," he sneered.

"I didn't tell him!" she objected.

"She didn't have to," Sam said. "I followed that sound I've been hearing for a week now, and there he was. You have to free him and send him to Adama."

"You have no place on the consensus, human," Doral told him shortly. "You're an advisor, that's all. We don't have to listen to you."

Sam opened his mouth to announce he did get a vote, since he was a Cylon, but shut it again. He had no proof except his word, and there was counter-proof in the baby and surviving the virus. Some might believe him, but others wouldn't. Even if they all believed him, they might be less willing to listen to him. It had to be far more impressive to be one special human voice of God, rather than just another Cylon.

Instead he countered, "If you're not going to listen when a vision tells me something, then what the frak am I doing here? I might as well go sit in a cell next to Novacek."

Leoben stepped forward and shook his head at D'Anna and Doral. "He's right. We made a decision at New Caprica to follow the path of God as Sam reveals it to us."

"Besides, you shouldn't even need it to be a vision," Sam pointed out irritably. "You should free him, because it's the frakking right thing to do."

"And," Sharon added quietly, "because we need to show Adama and the Fleet that not all of us are their enemies. We tried that on New Caprica, and we failed. We need to keep trying, and the best way to do that is with one of his men. Bulldog served under Adama on the _Valkyrie_."

Simon shook his head once. "They'll debrief him about us."

"That's what we want," Sharon told him. "We want Bulldog to tell Adama that we're not all murdering monsters. That some of us want peace." Her sister Eight nodded in firm agreement.

"That's not what I meant," Simon added. "He saw Anders free, in company with you and Six." His dark gaze met Sam's. "Are you sure you want him to tell the Fleet you're with us? They hated Baltar on New Caprica for collaborating."

'Collaborating'. That struck like a whip, because he knew Simon was right. Some humans were going to believe he was collaborating with the enemy. He shivered and felt sick to his stomach. Collaborating with the enemy went with another word: treason.

But that was only if he answered to human law, and he was sure that ship had sailed long ago. Whatever he was answering to, it certainly wasn't human.

He drew in a breath and answered evenly, "Then we'd better make sure Novacek knows you're not the enemy."

"The humans are the enemy," Doral persisted and Sam forced down the urge to punch him in the face. Was it going to take all of the Fives on the edge of death for them to bend, just a little?

"Or more to the point, we're **their** enemy," D'Anna said, stepping forward. "They'll never accept peace. Not after what we did. This dream of peace is just that, a dream."

"Maybe so," Natalie said, turning to confront her with her hands on her hips. "But better a dream of peace than killing. Those of our kin who died without resurrection are just as dead as the humans. But the humans will be reborn in the cycle of time, not us."

"What?" Sam asked, startled. "But I thought your god -- "

"No," Thea put a hand on his arm and shook her head. "Why do you think God commanded us to find a way to procreate? Because if we lose resurrection, there's nothing for us if we die. We end."

That struck Sam as both profoundly unfair and frightening. For the first time, he felt unsettled about what would happen if he died. He was used to Colonial scripture which was clear that he would be reborn in another turn of the wheel, and possibly at the end of time be rewarded with Elysium. But if he was a Cylon, and he couldn't resurrect, was that really just the end? Would he cease to exist? He knew some humans believed and accepted that, but it made him feel very cold.

"Not all of us agree with that interpretation," Leoben said, folding his arms and looking stubborn. All of the Sixes glanced at him pityingly, as though he didn't understand anything. "We have souls, so ours must be reborn in the cycle of time as well."

Before they got completely off track, Sam shrugged off his post-mortem dread and went back to the point. "Debate the status of your souls later; free the prisoner now. Send Novacek to Adama. Let him become proof of our intentions."

Sharon declared, "The Eights vote we send Bulldog to _Galactica_."

"We agree," Leoben said promptly.

"We disagree," Doral said.

"We disagree," D'Anna added.

"We disagree," the Six without a name said. Caprica, Thea, and Natalie all turned to look at her, with open surprise.

"What?" Caprica asked, narrowing her eyes at her sister.

"No, sister, the Sixes agree," Thea said. "Change your vote."

The other Six returned her look stubbornly. "No. Some of us question how the three of you make all the decisions for us, without seeking agreement or even so much as explaining to your own sisters what you're doing."

"What's there to explain?" Caprica demanded in frustration. "Sam's vision led him to the prisoner and so we agree with his release."

"'Sam's vision' that you blindly follow. You take names, you sleep with the human, you follow everything he does -- are you even Cylons anymore?" the Six accused bitterly.

Thea stiffened in offense. "You sound like a One, not us," she spat. "It is our way to follow the plan of God. So tell me, sister, which of us has **proof** that she follows the will of God? The one who doubts, or the one blessed with a **child**?"

Natalie put a quelling hand on Thea's arm to calm her down and addressed the recalcitrant Six. "Sister," Natalie said soothingly, "I understand that you and some of our other sisters have concerns. We can talk about this, in our own stream. All of us. But right now the choice is simple -- God wishes us to free the human prisoner. You need to withdraw your vote."

"No," the Six shook her head. "We talk first. You won't take us seriously if we give in to you."

"Well, I'm not changing my vote," Thea declared, narrowing her eyes at the rebel Six.

Sam noticed that Doral was smirking, pleased by this break in the Sixes. Had he had something to do with this, or was it just a side-effect of the Sixes' growing individuality?

"What happens now?" Sharon asked, confused. "Do all the Sixes cast their own votes to figure a majority?"

Leoben answered, reluctantly, "It has never happened before, but there is a procedure. If any model has a disagreement during consensus, the split vote is not counted. So it stands two for, two against." His eyes slid to Simon and his shoulders slumped a little, because, like Sam, he knew Simon wasn't going to vote to release the prisoner.

"Then our prisoner stays," D'Anna said smugly.

"Sister," Simon said, and everyone faced him at the reproving deep tone. "The Fours did not vote. We agree to release the prisoner."

Everyone was surprised, but D'Anna was incredulous. "You agree? But you've always been against following a human, or any of the visions --"

"Until their accuracy was proven to us," he corrected. "The Fours are satisfied that Anders is what he claims. Also," he added, his lip twisted with distaste, at D'Anna, "I find it unreasonable that you would torture him to pry out a vision, which you followed zealously, but you now turn your back because you don't like where it leads. Each vision is a test -- we failed with New Caprica and taking Anders captive out of fear. We must not fail again."

Sam stared in shock at Simon. What the hell had just happened? The Sixes - staunch supporters - had just broken, while the Fours had declared themselves allies. He couldn't just sit there and stare -- Sam stirred himself and went to him, extending a hand. "Thank you."

Simon hesitated, but then clasped his hand.

* * *

Sam led a group of Cylons back down to Novacek's cage. Sharon went to unlock it and hold it open. "Lieutenant," she invited. "Please. We're sending you to the Colonial Fleet. You're free."

Warily, Novacek left his cell, looking all around, as if he suspected a trick, and his eyes never rested on any particular Cylon, until he stopped in front of Sam. "You did it."

"I'm sorry I couldn't do it earlier."

"And we're sorry for any poor treatment you might have had while you were here," Caprica added. "We're still... learning the right things. Sam's trying to teach us."

"Tell that to Adama," Sharon added. "Tell him and the president and everyone else, that we're learning. We don't want to be enemies. That's why we're freeing you."

"Adama? He survived?" Novacek asked.

She nodded. "He did. And you can tell him your story as soon as you're there. We'll take you to the docking bay. We have a Raptor for you."

"You'll see the back packed with bags. That's farina cereal," Thea explained. "It's our gift to the babies and children of the Fleet." She rested her hand on her stomach, a soft light in her eyes.

Sam had agreed to Thea's idea- not only because a gift of food when the fleet might not have much was nice on its own, but also it got four hundred pounds of that crap off the ship.

In the docking bay, Sam went to the ramp alone to say goodbye to Novacek. "You sure you're not coming?" Novacek asked lowly. "We can make it out of here."

Sam chuckled. "In that bucket of bolts?" He glanced at the two Raiders on the other landing pads, and felt their pleasure like a lazy cat purring that he'd come to visit. "We'd never get to the bay door. You have to go alone. But I do have a favor to ask." Sam reached out and tucked his own dog tag in Novacek's hand. "Take this as proof. Give it to Captain Kara Thrace. And tell her... " He hesitated, wondering what the hell he could say. He swallowed back the lump in his throat, and stuck to the only thing that was true. "Tell her I love her. And I'll see her soon."

Novacek held up his fist, clenched around the tag. "I will." He saluted, which forced Sam to give him one back, and Novacek snorted. "I can tell you never had a proper DI, rook." He looked into Sam's face, frowned and murmured, "You should get out of here, before these toasters drive you crazy."

Sam forced a laugh. "Yeah, well, it's too late for that. I'm where I have to be, and soon you will be, too. Lords of Kobol watch over you, Bulldog."

"You, too, Oracle. I owe you."

Sam shook his head, refusing the debt, and stepped off to the floor.

Bulldog closed the hatch. Sam joined the Cylons to watch at a safer distance as Bulldog prepared for departure. Sam waved as the ship lifted off. He hoped _Galactica_ didn't blow up the Raptor in space, but that was up to Novacek. Hopefully Adama would at least be curious about his old buddy's reappearance and the unarmed Raptor.

As he watched it head for the exit, he clasped Kara's tag on its chain around his neck. It was his last remaining talisman from his life before. His fingers rubbed at her name and the etched symbol for the Fleet, and wondered with a sense of inevitability when that too would be stripped away from him.


	10. A Message from the Thirteenth Tribe

Kat's voice came over the wireless with no trace of her usual attitude. She was all business. "_Starbuck, Kat. I read a bandit heading your way._"

Kara glanced down at her dradis as the thing appeared. "I got it, Kat. On my way."

She banked to check it out. Whatever it was, it was small -- maybe as big as a turkey, but definitely not a baseship. Then the comp returned the profile. Raptor. A Raptor? Out here?

She frowned, trying to remember who was in flight right now. But there certainly wasn't anyone scheduled on this course. Something must have gone wrong with someone's jump.

Then the wireless squawked with a male voice, "_Krypter! Krypter! Krypter! Vipers, this is Bulldog, Colonial fleet i.d. 344754. Don't shoot. Please, don't shoot._ "

"Bulldog"? That wasn't one of her pilots.

Kat had come to the same conclusion. "_Cylon trick_," Kat said in disgust.

Kara beat back a moment's disappointment at the stranger's voice on the wireless coming from the Raptor. "_Galactica_, Starbuck. I'm eyeballing a Raptor, giving off a foreign call sign."

Dee reported, "_IFF from the Raptor is one lost at New Caprica_."

"Bulldog" added, "_I'm not armed and it's not a trick. I swear. If Commander William Adama or Colonel Tigh are there, they can identify me -- Daniel Novacek, from the Valkyrie_."

"_I say we take this trojan horse out_," Kat declared.

Starbuck knew that wasn't going to happen, not if Adama really knew him. "_Galactica_, Starbuck, awaiting instructions."

Her hand tightened on the throttle, not sure what she wanted to hear. Kat was probably right and this was a Cylon trick or trap of some kind. But on the other hand, a small niggling voice reminded her that Sam was on a Cylon ship that couldn't be that far away. Maybe Bulldog would know something about Sam... would've seen him, would be able to tell her how he was.

"_Starbuck, Galactica_," Helo said on the wireless in his usual strong and certain voice. "_Actual orders you to escort it in. Any strange moves, shoot it down_."

"Understood, _Galactica_. Kat, you finish up CAP. I'm on escort."

"_Got it. Don't have too much fun without me_."

Kara kept the Raptor in the middle of her targeting range. "Nice and easy, Bulldog. Line up on my heading."

"_Understood, Starbuck_," Bulldog turned his Raptor to match her heading.

She escorted it in, keeping an eye on its acceleration especially, in case it intended to purposefully crash into Galactica or another ship.

The pilot gasped when he saw the fleet. "_Oh my gods, that's all? They told me, but ... Gods_."

"Raptor, Starbuck. Proceed directly to the port landing pod. I have a lock on your ship, so don't do anything stupid."

He slowed and landed properly. She followed, hovering until he was down and was dropping into the bay.

Then she threw her Viper to the deck and followed. She barely waited for the airlock to close before popping the canopy. Helmet left in her cockpit, she hurried to the Raptor, pushing through the marines to the admiral and Helo.

The Raptor hatch was opening, and a man came out with his hands in the air.

The man who emerged was certainly not one of the known Cylons or a certain C Bucs team captain. "Bulldog" came out wide-eyed. He stared around at everyone, looking stunned. He was wearing a black t-shirt, grey track pants, and athletic shoes, all of it surprisingly new-looking.

"Are you alone?" Helo demanded.

"I'm alone." His eyes went to Adama and they stared at each other. "Is it really you, sir?"

"I think that's my question," Adama responded. Novacek raised his hand to salute, and Adama returned it, before asking, "What the hell happened to you, Danny?"

"They freed me. The Cylons freed me."

There was a moment of shocked silence and a murmur passed around the deck at the news. Confusion, doubt, and surprise echoed across the floor in a low wave that left silence behind.

"We'll talk about that at debrief. Take him to Doc Cottle," Adama ordered heavily. "And search that ship top to bottom."

Helo turned to deal with it.

"Sir," Novacek said hurriedly before the marines moved to escort him away. "The Cylons sent food. That's what's taking up the back. They're … different."

"I'll get your briefing as soon as you're cleared through medical," Adama insisted, but his face softened. "It's good to see you made it, Danny."

Novacek's face remained hopeful and glad as he was led away, but Kara saw the wild, haunted look in his eyes and couldn't help imagining Sam with the same expression.

"Sir," she said to Adama after Novacek had been led away. "I'd like to attend his debriefing."

The Admiral's gaze fell on her and he nodded. "Of course, Starbuck. I think he'll have news. The Cylons let him go for a reason. We need to find out what it is."

They waited, watching the marines and deck crew swarm around the Raptor with scanners, until Tyrol trotted up to the admiral.

"Sir, we've found nothing out of the ordinary, no trace of explosive residue. There are large bags marked as cereal in the back, like he said, but of course, there's no guarantee that stuff is what it claims. Should we dump it?"

"No," Adama answered. "I want it tested. We can't afford to dump any food, Chief." After Tyrol had moved away, Adama murmured, "Sending us food."

"You think it's a trick?" Kara asked.

"We need to be ready for it, if it is," Adama answered, "But... We'll see. I thought Bulldog died years ago. They've kept him all this time. And yet … right after we find that beacon in space, they release him finally. That's not a coincidence."

She shook her head in agreement. "What the hell is going on with the Cylons, sir?" she wondered.

"I'm very interested to find out."

* * *

 

She took a chair next to Helo at the end of the long, curved table. Roslin and Adama sat in the middle, with Lee next to Roslin and Tigh at the other end. Bulldog sat in a chair in the center of the room, facing them. He had changed into BDUs and wasn't cuffed, but there were armed marines stationed beside him, watching him.

"So," Roslin started and regarded Novacek for a time. "Lieutenant Novacek, I've been informed you've been a prisoner of the Cylons for seven years. Is that true?"

"Yes, madam president," he answered. "Though I'll have to take your word for how long it's been. It seemed like… forever."

"And yet, suddenly, after all this time, they decide to release you?" Roslin asked suspiciously.

"I don't understand it, ma'am," he answered, "but yes. I hadn't seen one of the human-looking Cylons in weeks, when this man ran right into the room where my cell was. I'd never seen him before. He was shocked to see me there, and said he was going to get me out of there. I didn't believe him, but only a few hours later I was in the Raptor on my way."

"Do you know who it was?" Roslin asked.

Kara's stomach tightened up and she knew what he would say.

"Said his name was Anders."

She caught herself from letting out a breath. Frak, he really was alive. But what the hell was he doing over there? She'd expected to hear about him in a cell, not running around on a basestar.

Novacek went on, "He was a pyramid player, for Virgon last I knew. He claimed he'd become a pilot, though he didn't look very military," he added with a glance at Adama. The admiral gave a small nod of confirmation.

"You're telling me Lieutenant Anders told the Cylons to release you?" Roslin asked in shock. "And they did it?"

"Yes, ma'am. He ordered them to do it. I thought he was a new kind of Cylon, but he said he wasn't. He said he was an oracle and a vision had led him to be with them. And so they followed him."

"Followed him?" Tigh blurted. "Those frakking Cylons are following Anders?"

"Yes, sir. Colonel. They did what he said, at least in letting me go. One of them, one of the Sixes, told me they were learning from him." He turned his eyes on Adama. "They especially wanted me to tell you, sir, that some of them want peace."

Adama's face gave nothing away, but Roslin snorted. "Yes, we saw how much they wanted peace at New Caprica, didn't we?"

"They were withdrawing already," Helo said, through clenched teeth.

"I can only tell you what I saw, madam president," Novacek said earnestly. "In all those years, none of them, not once, treated me like I was anything more than an inconvenience. They didn't hurt me, they fed me, but they also left me alone for so long, I thought they forgot I was there. Until he came in. Then they - the other Cylons - they apologized, sir, and they let me go. And one of the Sixes said the cereal was their gift to the children of the fleet. They seemed…. sincere, sir. I know that sounds wrong. I know what they did to the Colonies, but something changed. They were different."

Lee broke the silence, with a harder question. "How exactly did you find us, Lieutenant? It's not easy to run across a moving target in space. We've tried."

Bulldog shrugged. "He told me to wait there. The baseship jumped, and I waited. Three days later your CAP showed up on my dradis."

"Oh, frak," Tigh muttered, and Kara understood. The Cylons knew where the Fleet was. But on the other hand, they were only three days ahead. Three frakking days. Now she could narrow down the region of where to look.

"We need to alter course," Lee suggested, and the admiral nodded, looking thoughtful.

In the silence, Kara spoke up, keeping her tone professional. "Lieutenant, can you tell us what Oracle's condition was? How did he seem to you?"

She felt Helo's and Lee's eyes on her, but she kept her gaze steady on Bulldog, waiting for his answer.

She didn't like that Novacek paused before answering. "He seemed okay," he said with a shrug. "But there was something in his face. In his eyes. I don't know ... I asked him to come with me, but he told me he was where he had to be. Some vision he'd had or something. It was strange."

She nodded, though she didn't understand at all.

Bulldog lifted his head, addressed Adama, "He also said he had a message for a Captain Kara Thrace. I'd like to give it to her, sir, since I owe him for getting me out of there."

And suddenly she couldn't breathe. "That's me."

His gaze fell on her, now understanding why she'd asked about Sam's health. He grasped his dogtags and removed one, holding it out to her.

Gunny took it from him, examined it, and then passed it to Kara.

"As proof, he said," Bulldog explained. "That it was really him."

She opened her fingers and looked at it in her palm -- "S. Anders" was etched in one side, matching the other one that hung around her own neck.

"Starbuck?" Helo asked, from somewhere behind her.

"It's Sam's dog tag," she answered, in a voice so level she surprised herself, because she didn't feel calm at all. Then her gaze snapped to Bulldog's. "And he gave this to you himself?"

"Yes, sir. And he told me to tell you -- he said to tell you he loved you," he said more softly, as if he regretted not saying it in private. "And that he'll see you soon."

She waited, hoping for more, but he stopped. That was all, apparently. She said, "Thank you."

The edges of the tag dug into her palm as she clenched her hand around it.

 

* * *

 

After Bulldog was dismissed, Tigh was the first to speak with a snort. "It's all some kind of frakkin' mind game. Dirty Cylon trick."

"It's worse than that. They know where we are," Lee said. "That Raptor was waiting for the CAP. How did they know?"

"They're doing the same thing we are. Same course. We already knew that," Kara answered with a shrug.

"Or Anders told them," Roslin murmured. "It seems our lost lieutenant has changed his loyalties."

"He's a traitor," Tigh added with some relish, flinging Kara's words back in her face.

Kara stiffened and her hands went flat on the top of the table. "What did you say?"

Roslin leaned forward to meet her eyes, with a look that said Kara was being especially dense. "Running around loose on a Cylon ship. Telling them what to do. Telling them where we are... I'm sorry, captain, but the answer's obvious. Lieutenant Anders is a collaborator and a traitor, same as Baltar."

"No. He's been a prisoner for more than six months," Kara bit out angrily. "We have no idea what they've been doing to him. We have no idea what sort of visions he's had. It's not that simple."

"Then what would you call it?" Roslin retorted. "Maybe he was forced into it, but Lieutenant Novacek's words suggest a certain... freedom, don't they? If he **was** a prisoner, he's not one now."

Helo put a hand on Kara's arm to keep her from jumping to her feet, and Kara had the moment's amusement that Helo was trying to calm her down, while confronting Roslin. He said, "If Novacek's right about that, then you've gotta think about what else he said. Maybe it's all true. These Cylons are different."

Tigh snorted. "Why am I not surprised to hear that comin' from you?"

"They sent us food," Helo retorted. "They didn't just send your old buddy Bulldog, they sent food that might keep my daughter from starving. So yeah, you shouldn't be surprised by that."

The admiral cautioned, making both men sit back, "Accusations aren't going to help us untangle what's going on."

Kara took a deep breath, determined to be reasonable. "Look, Sam's not a traitor, that's ridiculous. But we won't know what's going on until we meet them."

"Soon," Roslin added thoughtfully. "Bulldog's message to you said that Anders would see you soon."

"Not soon enough," Kara muttered.

Adama pushed back his chair and stood. Immediately the other officers followed him up. "Mysticism aside, our job is protecting the Fleet. So we're going to make it harder for them to find us."

It was practical and it was necessary to change their course, Kara knew, but she hoped that didn't come at the expense of her operation. "Sir, what about the recon Raptors?"

"Continue those for now," he agreed. "I'd like to get the drop on them if we can. Rescuing Oracle is still on the table."

"Assuming he wants to be rescued," Lee muttered.

Kara glared at him and hoped he realized he was lucky to be at the other end with his father in between. She was about to leave with Helo, when Roslin interrupted, "A moment, Starbuck?"

She glanced at Adama, who nodded for her to stay and ushered everyone else out, leaving her with the president.

Roslin's gaze settled on her for a long moment. "I need to know something, Captain."

"Madam president," she said formally, not agreeing to answer anything at all.

"If we do run across the Cylons, are your feelings for the lieutenant going to blind you to what he's done?"

Kara laughed once sharply. "No more so than the fact that you've already made up your mind."

Roslin lifted her eyebrows. "Is there another way to read wandering at liberty on a basestar? Giving them our location? Other than collaborating with the enemy?"

Kara's thumb worked the etched name on the dog tag and she shook her head. "It's not the same. You heard what Bulldog said - Sam's there because of a vision."

Roslin waved a hand as if to dismiss it from consideration. "A pyramid player--"

"And you're a schoolteacher," Kara snapped. "He's much more than a pyramid player. You didn't see him, how he had to get drunk just to step foot on New Caprica, because he could feel the horror to come. You didn't see him almost kill himself on chamalla, trying to find out more." She found herself pressing against the edge of the table, facing down Roslin. "Tory said you called Hera 'the shape of things to come'. You believed in that so strongly you stole her from her own parents. There's a power at work here, you know it; you've felt it, too. So why can't you even consider that Bulldog's telling the truth, and Sam is there because the gods want him to teach these Cylons to be different?"

Roslin considered that for a moment then shook her head. "They destroyed the Twelve Colonies. Killed billions of people. Even as recently as New Caprica, they thought nothing of torture and murder. They're not different, Kara. They don't change." Her hands were fists on the top of the table and her mouth was a flat line. "At best the Cylons are children who pluck the wings from insects because it amuses them."

Kara couldn't exactly disagree, because Roslin was right about the attacks and the deaths and Cylon cruelty. Kara could still remember the cold eyes of the Cylons at that baby farm on Caprica. But that wasn't all there was. It ignored Athena's change of heart. It ignored Gaeta's report that one of the Sixes had been helping the resistance on New Caprica. It ignored the cereal in the back of Bulldog's Raptor. She swallowed and met Roslin's flinty gaze. "And if you're wrong? If Sam's giving us a chance to make a few allies, are you going to reject that offer out of hand? What is it the Scrolls say? Something about hate blinding us?"

Roslin's mouth twitched a little, recognizing the hit, but that was all. "My first duty is to protect the lives in this Fleet."

"All I'm asking you to do is give Sam a chance. He's not like Baltar, out to save his own skin. He's not a traitor," she insisted.

Roslin's face gave away nothing. "For your sake, I hope that turns out to be true."

And that left nothing more to say. "Then, if we're done, I'm still on duty."

Out in the corridor, Kara inhaled a deep breath. _Frak it, Sam, what the hell are you doing over there?_


	11. The Opera House

Sam wandered into the room the Cylons had made into a small auditorium. Thea had told him they were showing a movie from the Colonies and he was curious what they'd found.

He was bored out of his mind. It had been three weeks since Bulldog had left, and there was nothing to do but the same routine. He played pyramid and triad, lifted weights, and spent an hour a day with Sheryl and some other Eights learning their yoga moves. He'd read the books the Cylons had scavenged about babies, managing to terrify himself with all the things that could go wrong, and turned to lighter reading instead. After the inexplicably boring two-volume history of Tauron, he'd finished "_The Tragic Heart of Melia_" yesterday. Hopefully Thea could find the sequel somewhere, since he refused to believe Melia didn't eventually get back to her betrothed somehow.

In the meantime, he'd had not a flicker of a vision or whisper of anything strange, which with any luck, meant they were still going the right way. It was pleasant and restful to be free of the touch of whatever, but it also felt like a vacation that was going to end eventually. He was starting to get restless and anxious, feeling like he was missing something.

He stood just inside the curtained archway of the entry able to see the shining hair of the Sixes and Threes above the seats, and he looked at the screen.

It took no time at all to figure out the movie was terrible - there were a bunch of people running around screaming. It took seeing the girl in the skimpy blue dress to remember he'd seen the movie before. He'd even dated that actress for awhile. Two scenes later, while watching lurching zombies chase her around, he remembered her name: Nyala. He and Nyala had gone to opening night together and he'd left his seat halfway through to take stims in the bathroom to make the rest of the movie tolerable. Later, high on stims and drunk at the after party, he'd stripped off his clothes to swim in the pool, which he only remembered because someone had taken his picture and sold it to the 'net.

Thinking about how close he'd come to drowning or overdosing or other stupid ways of dying in the years before the Cylons came back, he put his head down on the chair back in front of him. 'Gods, Anders, you are luckier than you frakking deserve.' It felt like penance to force himself to stay there and watch Nyala's character get brutally hacked by zombies in the worst effects that three cubits could buy.

At first he thought it was the terrible sound quality of the movie, but in a rare quiet moment he heard it more distinctly -- the buzzing was back. He turned slowly, trying to get a direction on it, but it was difficult with the movie so loud.

Moving into the hall, he stepped from the darkened room through the thin curtain, and -- he was somewhere else.

_**There were bright golden lights in his eyes. He turned, finding himself in a large, open space. Squinting, he could see beyond the lights to rows of padded seats that climbed into high balconies**._

He stumbled into the sterile, cold corridor of the baseship and hit the wall opposite the doorway with his hand before he could stop himself, feeling a weird vertigo from the unexpected vision.

Blinking, he shook his head, trying to understand what he'd seen. Some sort of theater? What the hell was that supposed to mean?

He found himself looking around for the lion, wishing he could see it again instead. But the lion had vanished when he'd gone to the beacon, and it hadn't come back.

The buzzing was still there, though. He went down the corridors in both directions, and it didn't change. He tried taking the lift down to the bottom of the core. He smiled awkwardly at the Cylons who were there when the doors opened, but he stayed in the lift, realizing the sound was coming from somewhere past the jump drive where he couldn't go.

"Frak," he muttered as the lift went back to his level. "Would it kill you just to tell me?"

There was no answer, just the constant buzzing. He put his hands over his ears but that didn't help.

Head and ankle both aching, and weary of playing this game he'd already played, he went back to his quarters. Thea was still watching the movie, so the room was empty.

He picked up the bottle of yellow pills and tapped two into his palm to help him sleep.

Dozing when Thea crawled into bed, he moved over when she poked at him. "That was ... horrible movie," he slurred, and yawned.

"Yes, it was," she agreed, and kissed him. "We'll have to search the datastream and see if the other ships salvaged anything better."

"Pyramid games," he suggested sleepily. "Panthers-Warriors finals. Now that was a game..."

"I'll see what I can do." She chuckled and curled up against him, arm across his chest. Her warmth lulled him down to sleep.

* * *

He was aware of the buzzing before he was fully awake. It pulled him out of bed and he'd gotten nearly to the door before he realized he didn't have on any clothes.

Shaking his head, he dressed and went to brush his teeth. Always though, the sound was there in his mind, like an itch right between his shoulder blades, making him anxious.

"Sam?" Thea leaned up against the door frame behind him when he raised his eyes to her reflection in the mirror. "Are you okay?"

"The sound's back," he told her. "I think I better follow it."

"All right." She disappeared from the door, and when he came out, she was dressed and putting on her shoes to join him.

He followed the noise that morning, prowling through the corridors with Thea tagging at his side. But it started to get frustrating, as he realized that although there was a clear direction, the direction kept changing, jumping from one arm to the other of the ship.

Near lunchtime, Thea's hand closed around his arm. "Sam, it's outside the ship." Her voice was tight with excitement and her eyes were bright.

"Can't be," he answered, shaking his head. "I think it's just random. It keeps coming from different directions."

She shook her head and reminded him, "The baseship rotates. Taking that into account, the direction's been consistent."

"Oh, right, I knew that. Frak." Feeling stupid, he scrubbed a hand through his hair, trying to focus. It was as if the sound was someone permanently whispering in his ear, and it was distracting. "Then we should go to the control center. That's more in the middle and maybe I can get a better idea of the direction there, instead of following it around the ship like a moron."

She patted his back. "You're not. You just don't have all the information. C'mon, let's grab something to eat on our way."

Food made him feel less twitchy and he was able to face the other Cylons in the control center calmly to tell them that he was getting another path to follow.

"Is it Earth?" Natalie asked, bringing up what they all wanted to know.

"It's the path to Earth," he corrected and shrugged. "More than that, I don't know. But I know we're supposed to go that way." He turned his body to orient on the sound and pointed his finger in the right direction.

"Then we follow it. Everyone agrees?" Natalie asked, glancing around at all the gathered Cylons. Even Doral didn't voice any objection, Sam noticed, though his mouth tightened in disapproval.

It wasn't an exact science, getting a course from what he was hearing, but over the next few days he was able to correct it until they had the right heading locked in.

But even after he could feel it was correct, the sound didn't stop. It softened, but the buzz gave him a constant headache, making him tired and snappish. The pain pills at least helped him sleep, and eventually he found a place where the sound faded into the background.

 

* * *

The metal surface of the Raider's wing beneath his back was hard but pleasantly warm. Sam projected his boat around him and drifted with the gentle rocking of phantom waves and a cool breeze in his hair. He felt no pain, no anxiety, only peace. The Raider's croon didn't drown out the buzzing noise, but he was wrapped in the cocoon of the drugs and the Raider's purr and it seemed far away.

It occurred to him idly that he was snuggling up to a lethal killing machine. He was stroking its hard carapace with his left hand, petting it like it was a dog. But he didn't care; he was already crazy, after all, and why not do something that made him feel better.

The unconditional loyalty and devotion was a balm to his spirit, which felt ragged with confusion and exhaustion. Raiders didn't expect miracles from him; they didn't expect him to do anything. They knew what he was, so he didn't have to lie. They didn't care about Earth, or his frakking destiny, or that his mind was unraveling. They were just happy to be with him.

His solitude was ruined by Thea's approach. "Sam?"

He heard her voice and pretended he didn't, wishing she would go away. The sound of her heels came nearer, until she had to be standing just beyond the wing. "Sam?"

The boat and the sunlight disappeared, and chill reality pressed in on him again. Annoyed, he refused to acknowledge her.

The Raider's feeling changed. It grew wary and protective, and the purr became a growl. He patted the Raider, telling it to calm down, worried that the Raider would mistake his irritation for threat and hurt her.

"I'm awake," he answered.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," she said. "I know you're resting. And I'm glad of that. But you haven't eaten all day."

"I'm not hungry." He didn't open his eyes. He needed rest and quiet more than he needed food.

She heaved a breath of disagreement, but went on to something else. "Also, there's a problem with our course."

"It's right," he said. "I can feel it." Even here, where the sound was muted, he knew they were on the path.

"We have to change it."

"Change it?" He sat up. She was worried, her teeth holding her lower lip as she looked at him. "Why?"

"Because it's leading us straight into a stellar nursery. We'll have to go around."

"No, we can't." He slid down off the wing to stand near the Raider's head, one hand on the top of its head.

"We have to," she insisted. "The radiation is too strong. Come; take a look for yourself."

_'Be back_,' he reassured his pet, and patted its head before he followed Thea out.

In the command center, at the back, someone had put up an image of their course. Dust and glowing gases swirled hypnotically, pulling him near, and it took him a moment to tear his eyes away and see who else was there. Leoben, Sharon, Natalie, and D'Anna were at the main datafont, another Six and Four were at the back one, and Doral was waiting at the far forward one.

"You see the problem," Natalie told him. "A scan showed us the gamma radiation is far too strong for the ship. We'll have to go around."

"No, we need to go through it," he insisted. "That's the way we have to go."

"It's impossible," D'Anna said, shaking her head and she looked disappointed, too. "It'll kill the ship."

"Then," he hesitated, casting in his mind desperately for some alternative. "I'll go through it myself."

"In what ship?" Thea asked. "A Heavy Raider would be just as affected. Remember, our technology is biological; all our ships would be harmed by the radiation, and the smaller ships have even less protection. If you were in a purely metal Colonial vessel - you might make it. Maybe. But not a Cylon ship."

D'Anna added with a touch of smug satisfaction, "But you gave our only Raptor to Bulldog. We have no choice but to go around."

Sharon said, "It should only add a few days on to our trip. We're still ahead of the fleet."

"No," he shook his head adamantly and his stomach seized up, just as it had with New Caprica. And exactly like that, he knew it was going to happen anyway. "We shouldn't."

"You can pick up the course again on the other side," Natalie reassured him.

"What if I don't?" he asked. "This isn't a sure thing. It's not something I **control**, for gods' sakes."

"You won't lose the path," Leoben said. "If it's truly your destiny, you'll find it again."

Sam was far from reassured by that, not when he was feeling the same **wrong** about going around as he'd felt about New Caprica. Maybe he would find it, but something was going to go bad first.

"It doesn't matter," Natalie pointed out in her usual hard, practical way. "We can't go through that. If the ship dies, we're all dead."

Thea's hand slipped around his arm and she leaned closer. "Sam," she murmured for his ears alone, "the baby. Radiation that strong could harm her. We're not as shielded here as we'd be on a human ship."

He nodded, knowing she was right, and yet ... and yet... he still felt sick and he wished there was another way. But there wasn't. "All right. Since we've got no choice."

"We've plotted a course," Sharon said. "Ready?"

"Ready," D'Anna put her hand in the datafont. "And ....JUMP!"

Everything around him quivered, as if he was underwater. Then flashed to someplace else.

_Cold metal walls and harsh lights turned into a much larger space. Bright golden lights shone in his face but not bright enough to hide rows of padded seats. More seats formed balconies in the audience of some sort of theater. He was standing at the edge of the stage, as if he'd just come up the steps from the audience._

_He turned the opposite direction and saw five glowing figures onstage, standing before white drapes. They were all wearing white robes with hoods that hid their faces._

He took a step toward the hidden figures, and the baseship was abruptly before his eyes again. He staggered, as the room swam and whirled around him, and he threw out his arms to catch himself.

His hands splashed into the liquid of the datafont and one hand pressed against the bottom to hold himself up.

Intense cold shot through him, ice stabbing him inside his bones, and he heard himself crying out in pain.

The lights blinked and went out, leaving only the red glow of the datastream in the walls. Cylons were shouting at each other - sounding panicked as the ship jumped again.

And again. But he saw none of it.

_Cold metal walls and harsh light turned into a much larger space. Bright golden lights shone in his face but not bright enough to hide rows of padded seats. More seats formed balconies in the audience of some sort of theater. He was standing at the edge of the stage, as if he'd just come up the steps from the audience._

_He turned the opposite direction and saw five glowing figures onstage, standing before white drapes. They were all wearing white robes with hoods that hid their faces._

_And to his left, at the edge of the stage, there was a tall wooden door, framed on both sides by long white satin drapes._

_He started toward the hooded figures, his steps slow but determined._

Hands around his waist yanked him away from them, pulling him back into the stark glare of the baseship.

"Sam!"

He blinked furiously, trying to orient himself, and put his hands to his head gasping as the noise screeched, louder than before. "Oh, gods."

"Sam?" Thea asked anxiously. "Are you okay?"

He was on the floor, he realized, his back against her, as though he'd fallen. The noise was a drill in his brain, loud and insistent. "Oh, gods, it's so loud. Can't you hear it?"

Thea wrapped her arms around him and rocked back and forth, shushing him, with her cheek pressed to his shoulder.

"Report," Natalie said, and a babble of Cylon voices answered her, over-laying each other, buried in the phantom noise.

Thea looked up and cut it off with a hard voice that broke through the muffling sound around him. "What the hell was that?"

"The Hybrid jumped us. At least three times beyond red line," Natalie explained. "We're not even in range of that star cluster anymore."

"She went crazy," Sharon said.

"When he fell in the datafont," Leoben said, and Sam could feel Leoben's gaze on him, weighing and wondering. Sam knew he should be concerned about that, but he just couldn't care, not with that whine in his head.

"And now we're lost," D'Anna said, in disgust.

"I told you," Sam whispered and could barely hear himself. "I told you not to do it."

Leoben came closer and knelt on the floor in front of him. "What did you see? You saw something during the jumps."

"I... I don't know. A theater. I don't know what it means." He bent his head and put his fingers to his temples, trying to squeeze the noise out. "It's so frakking loud. Gods, make it stop."

"What's our heading?" Natalie asked. "You need to tell us where to go, Sam."

"I don't know. I can't tell."

"Listen to the sound," D'Anna ordered him. "Find where it's coming from."

He could barely hear anything else. He shook his head helplessly. "I can't. It's just there."

"But you-- " Natalie started.

"Give it a rest, sisters," Thea snapped. "He can't do it right now. Leoben, talk to the Hybrid, see if she can retrace her path."

"And find out what error did this," D'Anna ordered. "If we can't trust her to jump properly, we might have to take her off-line. She shouldn't jump without instructions."

"You assume she had no instructions," Leoben replied calmly, "but I will check. Rest, Sam. You must show us the path."

"Come on," Thea pushed Sam forward enough to clear space to kneel behind him and then pull him up to his feet. "Let's get you to bed."

He had to hang on to her all the way to their room. He stumbled gracelessly at her side, unable to concentrate on anything else but the phantom sound filling his head. It was all around him, with no direction, just random pounding and loud buzzing that set his teeth on edge.

In the bedroom, he twisted free of her to go to the table and fumble at the pill container. He shook three into his hand, nearly dropping them all on the floor, and swallowed them dry.

Thea exclaimed in dismay, grabbing the container from him, "Sam! You didn't take three --"

He seized her wrist in one hand, tight enough to make her gasp, and pulled her close to look in her eyes. He told her with gritted teeth, "You don't understand, it's like a fire alarm in my head. I need it to stop."

"All right." Her free hand stroked his cheek and down his chest. "Calm down," she urged softly, and he realized he was gasping, unable to catch his breath. "We'll get through this, too. We're far from wherever we're supposed to be, that's all. You'll get us back on the path."

He let her go, so she could use both hands, caressing his skin so he could remember his body. It didn't help the sound, but it did help him breathe. When she had him undressed, she pushed him back onto the bed and followed, stretching across him and kissing him as if she could single-handedly drown out the voice of god.

And for one moment of blessed relief, she did.

Then the drugs kicked in, and he fell asleep, sinking deep to avoid dreams.


	12. The Thread Frays

He woke up with his head pounding like he had a hangover, and that frakking **noise** in his head. Frak. He put the pillow over his head, but that didn't help.

Thea woke when he left the bed and overturned a chair in his effort to grab the pills. "Sam? It's still there?"

"I think falling in the datafont did something to my brain," he told her, swallowing two dry. "This isn't -- this can't be right. It hurts, and there's no direction, not like there was before."

"Let's go to different ends of the ship and see what you sense. First, we'll get some breakfast --"

His stomach lurched at the thought of food. "No. I'm not hungry."

"Sam, you didn't eat at all yesterday. You need to eat something," she protested.

"I'll just throw it up." He drank a little water hoping it would settle his stomach long enough to digest the pills. Thinking was such a damn struggle it took him a moment to remember the baby. "But you should eat."

"Wait for me," she told him, slipping into her clothes quickly. "Don't go out there alone. I'll be right back."

He wanted to be amused that she was afraid he'd get lost on his own -- it wasn't as if everyone else wouldn't know who he was -- but amusement was too much work. "Okay." While she was gone, he showered and let the water pound his head in a counterpoint to the loud buzzing. It didn't go away, but it finally eased as the pain pills numbed his headache.

Thea found him still in the shower. "Sam, come on." She hauled him out, over his protests that he could do it himself. "Get dressed and let's see if you can feel a change."

She tucked her hand around his arm as they walked, out to the end of the Raider docking arms and to the back of the jump drive. Nothing about the sound changed -- it remained, in his ears, in his head, without shifting direction. Worse, everywhere they went, people asked him how he was and if he knew the way back. The fifth time it happened, he tensed and had to bite his tongue to resist something sharp, and Thea shot him a look, realizing he was about to lose his temper.

"Let's go back. You have to eat something."

"You're pushy," he grumbled, and she smiled.

"I'm a Six."

In the dining room, he forced himself to eat a few crackers and not bite off Sharon's head when she asked him if he knew the way. When D'Anna came in, he had no similar restraint.

"Have you figured out our path?" D'Anna asked, and her voice was like nails on his skin.

"Sister, now is not--" Thea started in low warning, but Sam spoke right over her.

His voice was frozen. "No. Why, are you gonna torture me some more? Because right now, I don't think it would feel any different. I warned you all I'd lose the frakking path if we went around, and I did. And now I have this **buzz** in my head giving me a migraine. So y'know, you can all go frak yourselves. I'll tell you when I know something!"

D'Anna stiffened, and he turned away. He was past caring about Cylons getting offended, when they were the reason there was something wrong in his head.

He bent his neck down and put his thumbs to his temples, pressing hard as if he could squeeze the noise out.

 

* * *

 

The baseship was trying to retrace its path, but nothing changed. Days passed, every minute feeling like he was getting dragged through hell. The **noise** stayed in his ears, constantly buzzing and humming down to his bones. He retreated to his bedroom to avoid the stares and the questions. He couldn't think, and the only things that seemed to help were the yellow pills that kept the headache at bay. And even though he knew they weren't fixing anything and were, in fact, creating a new problem, nothing else helped at all.

He stirred from the bed, attracting Thea's attention from the table where she was eating lunch.

"Sam? Do you sense something new?" Thea asked, but not with any hope of a positive answer. She frowned at him as he walked closer and grabbed the pill container off the table.

"No. Still the same," he shrugged. He popped the lid one-handed and shook two into his palm, hating the way his hands trembled. Worse, there were only six pills left and he didn't know if there were any more on the ship.

Her hand closed around his. "No. I think you've lost the path because you keep taking these things."

He jerked free and threw her off, temper cracking. "There is no path!" he shouted. "Don't you get it? It's not outside -- it's inside me. It's not a projection, it's not the frakking voice of God... it's not real. It doesn't lead anywhere."

Thea folded her arms and watched him, disapproving, but she didn't say anything or try to stop him.

He swallowed the pills and chased them with three gulps of ambrosia. Distantly he knew mixing the two was a bad idea, but sitting there with that noise drilling into his head was worse.

"You're wrong," she told him. "I know it, and so do you. This is trying to tell you something. Your destiny is to lead us to Earth."

"Destiny," he sneered. "I am so frakking **sick** of destiny. Doesn't it make you angry to know your life is just as much a plaything of the gods as mine?" He nodded down toward her stomach, which was now showing a distinct roundness. "We're all just puppets, dancing to someone else's tune and --"

He never saw her hand until after she'd slapped him across the face, snapping his head to the side and making his cheek throb with heat. "Ow. Frak."

While he was still recovering, she grabbed the pill bottle. "No more pills," she announced coolly. "I don't like who you've become."

"No. I need them." He grabbed for them, but she turned so he missed. His feet tangled on each other and he stumbled, having to catch himself on the bed. The walls of the room blurred and spun, and he clutched the blanket in his fists, closing his eyes. And through it all - the **sound** was in his ears. "Oh gods. Oh gods." His voice came out like a desperate prayer. "Don't take them, please. It's the only thing that makes this bearable..."

Her hand was gentle on his shoulder and the back of his neck. "I believe in you," she murmured, and he didn't understand how she could speak so softly, yet he could still hear her. She wrapped her arms around his chest, her head against his and her body firmly against his back. "Not some vague idea of who I want you to be, or who I think God sent you to be; I believe in you, and I'm here to love you and support you. But I can only follow where you lead. Only you can find the path."

"There's no path," he whispered. "It's all the same. And it doesn't stop, it never frakking stops...."

She kissed the back of his neck and he turned, in a sudden fever to find his peace in her. His mouth found hers and he yanked at her clothes. He managed hers, but his got stuck around his feet in his eagerness, and he fell to the bed, pulling her with him. She let out a laugh and rolled until she was on him, bare skin against his from his chest to his knees. When she wriggled against him so lithely, the heat went through him. The desire for her nearly drowned out the sound.

"Oh, gods, just give me this," he prayed against her lips, as her hands teased him everywhere, until he growled and rolled them again. She let out a breathless chuckle and her fingers seized his hips and tried to pull him into her.

While he crouched above her, the numbness washed through him from the drugs, and his hands seemed abruptly far away from the rest of his body. He tried to finish, wanting that moment of sweet silence, but something he'd done a thousand times became too complex to manage, and then altogether impossible.

"Sam?" Thea frowned up at him when he stopped.

It all seemed very funny suddenly, and he collapsed next to her, laughs escaping despite trying to stop. "I'm sorry," he gasped out. "Can't be a prophet, can't be an oracle, can't even frak properly--"

"It's all right," she soothed and put her head on his shoulder, pulling the blanket up over them. "Try to rest, Sam."

The muted song dragged him down into dreams of a little girl, pale blonde like her mother, staring at him in mute accusation. When he tried to touch her, she crumbled into ash.

* * *

He woke with tears on his cheeks at the jarring sound and the renewed stabbing pain in his head. Tossing and turning, looking for relief, even Thea's gentle touch seemed to burn his skin, forcing him from the bed.

"Sam?" She pushed herself up to watch him in hopeful confusion. "Do you feel something?"

"I... I don't know, I have to move." Pausing to put his clothes on made his jaw ache with the effort of not gasping when he moved his head, but movement seemed to help, except he was dizzy when he stood up and stumbled on nothing.

She followed, hurrying after him, as he made his way through the corridors. He didn't know where he was going at first, moving because it felt better than staying still.

Leoben met them, and the instant he caught sight of Sam's face, he frowned deeply. "You look unwell."

"I feel worse, I promise," Sam muttered. Nauseous, dizzy, exhausted, in pain - he just had to **get away**. He pushed past Leoben to keep going.

He only realized where he was going when he walked into the control center and stopped there, barely seeing the expectant and wary faces of the Cylons that turned to face him.

The edges of his vision frayed and turned dark, and when he took another step, it all changed.

And all he could think was **finally**.

_Cold metal walls and harsh light turned into a much larger space. Bright golden lights shone in his face but not bright enough to hide rows of padded seats. More seats formed balconies in the audience of some sort of theater. He was standing at the edge of the stage, as if he'd just come up the steps from the audience._

_He turned the opposite direction and saw five glowing figures onstage, standing before white drapes. They were all wearing white robes with hoods that hid their faces. He approached with slow steps, and extended his hands to push the hood back from the first one he came to._

_It was his own face._

Sam flinched and staggered back, hands to his head as the sound burrowed a burning trail into his brain.

Leoben caught him and managed to ease them both to the floor. "Sam. What did you see?"

Sam grit his teeth, "Me. I saw me. I don't know, I don't understand. I'm losing what's real..."

He put his hands over his ears, but that did nothing to block the sound.

Leoben put both hands on his arms and urged them down. "I think it's time, Sam."

He flinched. "For what?"

"To go see the Hybrid. She may bring you clarity."

He shook his head, terrified that with one look at him, she'd know. She'd tell the others. He'd avoided her all this time, afraid of what she knew, or what she might say. The Raiders knew, so the Hybrid had to know. She'd been keeping it from the datastream, but she had to know.

As much as he wanted to know the truth, there was another part that was utterly terrified of what he might find out.

"She knows things," Leoben insisted and Sam let out a short, desperate laugh. That was the problem. "Maybe she can help you understand what afflicts you. We can't help you, but maybe she can."

"Please," Thea knelt in front of him and her hands seized his. "Sam, please, just try."

He gave in with a gasp. "All right. All right. I don't care anymore."

They helped him to his feet

At first he thought it was part of the sound in his head, the strange wordless drone, but as they went down the corridor he realized it was distinct. Someone was speaking.

Then they were inside the Hybrid's chamber. It was empty except for the pool where she lay and another Two who knelt beside her. He glanced up, nodded at them, and frowned in concern at Sam.

When he got close enough to see her, Sam stared. He'd expected something more... machine like. Not a woman in a pool, hooked to the ship.

She didn't appear to notice him as he knelt down beside her. "I-- " he started and had to clear his throat. "I'm here," he whispered.

She stared upward blankly, as she continued to speak about the engines and atmosphere and soup and neutrons dancing ...

The other Leoben cautioned, "Don't touch her."

He listened to her voice, and there was something hypnotic about it that let the buzz in his ears quiet down - not gone, but low and bearable.

"Replacement coils reforming in section 273, eighty-two percent complete. Fleet communication restored by request. Instructions received. Destination achieved, awaiting new heading."

"Who gave you the jump coordinates to come here?" Thea asked the Hybrid.

"First priority command override of input destination."

"Override?" Thea repeated, sounding puzzled. "Who can override the consensus?"

"I think Sam did," Leoben said. "He didn't want to go, and she picked up his refusal when he fell into the datafont. She changed our jump coordinates to the ones he gave her."

"I didn't!" he protested. "I didn't give her any coordinates. I don't even know where we are!"

The Hybrid murmured, staring upward blankly, "Coordinate number 13453.03. New coordinates selected from given parameters. The flock migrates along the same path with ten percent variation. The seven shall become two when one steps forth of the five. End of line. New line. And the moths go to the light atmospheric pressure reduced .003% compensating the door will open and close in the space between."

If he hadn't had a headache already, this would've given him one. "Can you help?" he asked, a little more loudly. "Can you help me understand?" He leaned forward, looking down into her face. "Can you even see me? Do you know I'm here?"

She continued to murmur, "The five lights of the apocalypse rising scenes revealed only to those who enter the temple only to the chosen one the chosen one the chosen one. End of line. Until next time the eye the eye look into the eye to know thyself."

His stomach clenched up, realizing she was responding to him. "Am I the chosen one?" he asked. "Chosen for what? And what's the eye? Whose eye?"

Shocking him, her arm shot up out of the water and her fingers seized his wrist. And suddenly her eyes were fixed on his, wide and liquid but alert, looking right at him. Her voice was strong and certain. "Do not follow her, Samuel Theseus Anders. For you the opera house shall open to bring the light to your children."

"My children?" he asked, glancing to Thea who put a hand across her stomach. "What do you mean? Do not follow who?" He shook his head impatiently, pushing aside the cryptic words. They had meaning, he knew they meant something, but they didn't answer his question. "What about the sound? What is it? Can you make it stop?"

She smiled at him, full of love and pity, and she lifted her other hand to trace a wet path down his cheek. "Home. It calls you home, Samuel Theseus Anders. Listen to the song."

She pulled on him, yanking his arm down, so his hand plunged into the icy cold liquid of her pool.

He let out a cry, but his voice seemed to dwindle and recede as that frakking sound filled his ears, covering everything, growing louder, vibrating in his bones. It strengthened, painful now, like a discordant worm in his brain, digging between his ears.

He stared into the Hybrid's eyes and tears came to his eyes at the agony.

Her other hand was still on his face, stroking softly And somehow, despite the unbearable noise in his head, he still heard her whisper: "_Surrender, Samuel. Follow the song. You have lost the path. Surrender to the song. It pulls you to the temple to be reborn_."

It wasn't a song, it wasn't - it was a sound no one else could hear. A hallucination - creeping insanity, mind cracking under the stress...

And Gods it hurt... a spike right between his eyes, burning...

Then it stopped. The pain stopped, and everything grew silent.

As he was suddenly somewhere else.

_The theater. He was on the stage again, facing the five white robed figures standing in the light. Four wore hoods, hiding their faces, but the fifth's hood was back, on his shoulders. He was Sam._

_Sam couldn't look away from this other version of himself. But the Other Him didn't react to his presence, just continued to look straight ahead as if he didn't see Sam standing there. His eyes were open but Sam had to stare to see if he was blinking - he did, but otherwise was utterly still._

_His expression seemed to be -- not blank, but as if he was listening to something far away._

_His contemplation was broken by the unexpected touch of someone taking his hand. He turned and to his left he saw a young woman, wearing a blue summer dress with bare feet. Her hair was long and dark, loose and straight, but the eyes were the Hybrid's._

_"What is this place?" he asked her. "I keep seeing it, but I don't know where it is. Or what it is."_

_"You see the Opera House of Kobol," she answered. "A performance of a story no one believes because it's true. It is the source of your power and the cause of your fate."_

_"Thank you for clearing that up," he muttered. Even in his own head, nobody would ever give him a real answer to anything. But whether this was a projection or a dream or something else entirely, he knew it was important. "So who's that?" he pointed to the Sam Anders in White._

_"You."_

_"But I'm here."_

_"You are here. You are on the baseship. You are in the temple. And you are there," she lifted her free hand to gesture to the other Sam, then she turned, tugging him with her, to face what would be offstage in a real theater. But here, there were curtains blocking the way, except for a large wooden door set into a wall. "When the many become one, you can open the door. If you choose."_

_He swallowed. "What's on the other side?"_

_She didn't answer until he looked down at her. She smiled, beautiful but terrible, the smile of an angel or a god. "The end."_

He jolted awake, opening his eyes to find himself on the floor of the docking bay. His head burst into a fierce throb and his body ached, as if he'd been beaten, and he shut his eyes again, wondering what the frak had happened.

Recent memory intruded, and awareness of the **sound** hit him again. But it was buried under the crooning from the Raiders. It wasn't quite peace and quiet, but it was better than it had been for days.

He was right in front of the sensor and intake grill of his Raider, as if within its embrace. And it was not the only Raider there either -- without moving, he could feel others in the strength of the soothing chorus in his mind.

"Sam?" Thea's voice whispered. He opened his eyes again and moved his head to see her. She knelt at his side and took his hand.

"What happened?" he asked her, surprised how hoarse his voice was. "Gods, do I feel like hell..."

Her eyes were wide and fixed to his face, fearful and worried, as her thumb stroked the back of his hand. "When the Hybrid pulled your hand into the pool you started screaming," she said, and her voice and hand both trembled. "You were bleeding from the nose. I thought you were having a stroke. The Twos and I tried to pull you away, but she wouldn't let go until you passed out. I remembered what you'd said about the Raiders and I... I hoped it would help. I didn't know what else to do," she admitted with a helpless shrug.

"It helps," he answered and turned his hand over to grasp hers. "I still hear it, but they push it back. I ..." He looked away and had to clear his throat to speak.

"I'm going insane," he whispered, confessing to her what he wouldn't to anyone else. His heart seemed tight, and he couldn't get air in as fear closed his throat. "I am. I don't know if it was that neural amplifier thing, or the virus, or what. But this thing is tearing at my brain and I can't stop it."

"No, Sam, it's not true. The lion was a vision," she reminded him. "It led us to the beacon. You weren't crazy then, and you aren't crazy now. You just need to figure out what it's trying to tell you."

"The Hybrid told me I had to ... surrender to it," he murmured.

Her grip on his hand tightened, but her voice stayed level. "Then that's what you should do."

"I don't know how," he whispered. "It hurts." But those weren't the real reason he was suddenly terrified, and he could barely push the words out. "What if I don't come back? She warned me this would change me - I wasn't ready."

"Sam. Have faith," she urged him quietly, leaning close to kiss his forehead and touch his cheek with her hand. "I believe in you, and I believe in God. And I believe God has plans for you, and won't give you more than you can bear. But you're trying to shut out his voice, and that's not the way. You have to open yourself to it."

He chuckled hollowly. "You know what we call people who claim to hear the gods talking to them? Crazy."

She shook her head and laid a finger on his lips. "God. The creator. There's only one of those, and he's been speaking to you all along, granting you revelation, blessing us with our daughter... But now you need to take that final step and surrender yourself to God."

He turned over her words, remembering what he'd seen and what the Hybrid had told him inside his vision, and he felt cold and small and afraid.

Because she was right. He'd been pushing it away, a man trying to hold up a cracking dam with all the force of pent-up water behind it, and if he let go, it would fall on him. It might wash him clean, or it might drown him. But he could already feel himself breaking under the strain. Better to try this while it was his own will.

He licked his dry lips and inhaled a breath. "All right."

Pushing himself to his feet, he patted the Raider on the head and thanked it for its help.

Each step away from the Raiders made the noise louder, a high-pitched whine right into his head, buzzing and snapping like electric arcs, until he needed Thea's shoulder to walk.

* * *

He sat cross-legged on their bed and wondered how the hell he was supposed to do this, when the noise was a saw in his brain.

_Surrender_, the Hybrid's voice seemed to echo in his memory. _Listen to the song._

He rested his hands on his knees, as Thea sat across from him, not quite touching him. She smiled encouragement. He inhaled a deep breath, and another until the ragged edge of his breathing smoothed out, and he closed his eyes. And he listened.

It hurt. Gods, it hurt.

It wasn't noise, it burned like fire. Not on his skin, but inside his head and body, scouring him down to the very core.

He heard his own voice, and Thea murmured, "You're still fighting. Let it pass through you, Sam."

Her fingers covered his hands, pulling apart his tight fists until they opened.

"Accept it," she whispered. "You are the chosen one, as she told you. It's yours, Sam. Embrace it."

He tried to imagine the pain and the noise passing between the molecules of his body, in all the empty spaces. The noise and the pain were so physically present, it was hard to allow it into himself. But he did. He was the conduit, and Sam Anders was in the way. Sam Anders was flesh and bone and entirely too weak; he had to be a ghost. Sam Anders couldn't **be**.

The moment he accepted that and let go, what had been random sound and pain, became music.

It had no obvious melody, no rhythm, but the only word he had for it was music. It was a song, sung between the stars, between atoms, life and death, all things within its embrace.

It was the voice of creation. It filled him until he was nothing, a mere shadow against the light, but he saw the path laid out ahead of him. It was a shining silver stream to follow through the darkness and storm of war and death to come.

* * *

Thea watched him, her heart in her mouth and feeling cold with terror. She knew it had to be done, and she believed what she told him, but it hurt to see his face so drawn and tight and hear the choked whimpers of unbearable pain in his throat. She held his hands loosely, praying this would work.

Then, between one breath and the next, it changed. His expression smoothed out and he inhaled a deep breath. His eyes snapped open, startlingly blue and focused on something beyond her.

"Sam?" she whispered, but he didn't hear her.

She heard a step in the doorway and turned her head to see Leoben coming in, watching Sam. "It worked," he said.

"I don't know if it worked," she corrected. "I just know he pushed himself through whatever was blocking him." She moistened her lips and tried not to remember those sounds that seemed even worse than his screams when the Hybrid had held him. "This is no different than what Three did to him, not really."

Leoben didn't listen, not taking his eyes from Sam as he approached the bed. "He sees the stream, Thea. Look at him. He can see our destiny; he knows the path."

She swallowed. "I hope so. But... I'm afraid this is killing him," she whispered. "I don't want to have him save us, only to lose him before our child's even born." Her hand cradled her abdomen and the new life growing there, and the barely sensed flickers of the baby's dreams. "He deserves to know her. He deserves peace, and he gets only suffering. How is it that he suffers for us? We who tormented him. We who destroyed his people. It's not right."

She lifted her eyes to look into Sam's farseeing gaze and the slow, occasional blink that was the only sign that he was there at all.

"There is a reason," Leoben reassured her. "We'll learn it in the fullness of time. But his suffering is not for nothing, if he leads us to Earth and new lives."

"And his life?" she murmured and took one lax hand between her own. "What of that?"

Leoben didn't answer, until she swung her head to look at him. He stared at the floor and said sadly, "His destiny will eclipse ours, Thea, and he will leave us behind."

She didn't like the sound of that, and she didn't find it reassuring at all, but it wasn't a surprise. She'd chosen to stand in the eye of the storm. She'd known he wasn't going to be hers forever.

When Sam got to his feet - expression unchanging with blind eyes - she followed.

* * *

_He was standing in a hallway, carpeted in a pattern of tiny circles, ornately decorated with a painted mural on the wall and chandeliers overhead. He knew this place; he'd been here before, but he couldn't remember where to go._

_Either side seemed the same, so he picked a direction and started walking. The hall was endless - mirrors and sconces and paintings marching down the wall but the far end never seemed to get closer._

_He heard running footsteps behind him, breaking the silence of this place and turned quickly to see a little girl with dark curly hair hurrying toward him._

_He watched. frozen in astonishment, as she threw her arms around his legs, and hugged him tightly._

_At first he thought he was having a vision of his daughter in the future, but he realized, kneeling down to look at her wide brown eyes, that he knew who she was. "Hera?" he asked._

_She grinned and announced, with evident glee and pride, "Find you!"_

_"I guess you did."_

_She frowned at him and grabbed his hand, to pull him back the way he'd come._

_"I have to go this way," he insisted, but she was exceptionally strong for a little ghost, pulling him the other way._

_There were two other people standing in the hallway -- Baltar and Thea. No, not Thea, a different Six, dressed in red, and he doubted that was really Baltar either. Both looked at him and then down at Hera, who was holding his finger in her small fist._

_"No, Hera," Six said sharply. "He has yet to repent his crime. He must stand alone."_

_Crime? What crime?_

_Hera didn't answer, but looked mulish and didn't let go of his finger._

_"Who are you?" Sam demanded. "What the frak are you talking about?"_

_She smiled, a predatory expression that made him shiver. "Do not mistake me for my sister. I have no mercy for you, when you had none."_

_"Darling," Baltar said, curling a hand around her waist, "he may yet earn redemption."_

_She curled a lip in scorn, and then, when Sam was still trying to formulate a protest, she darted forward to pull Hera away and scoop her up. "She belongs to us. Not you."_

_"No!" Hera wailed and he ran after her. But somehow he was falling further and further behind, as they reached the towering main doors. The doors opened, letting out a familiar golden light, and the three went inside._

_The doors shut behind them and he pulled on the handles. The doors didn't move. "Hera!" he shouted. "Hera!" He yanked harder and then set his shoulder to the doors, pushing. But they refused to open. He banged on them with his fists. "No! Let me in!"_

_He knew where he had to go now. He had to find a way back inside._


	13. Ringing the Temple Bell

It felt strange to be on the surface of a planet again. It didn't help that this one was barely habitable -- it was too hot and stank of the algae that was a thick sludge on the surface of the water. But the Fleet needed food after the contamination of the equipment, and this was the only source they'd found. It had come at a high price, too, traveling through all that radiation.

Kara fought off disappointment that the Fleet had to stop, though, knowing the baseship was now going off ahead of them. Adama was concerned with the tactical implications, Roslin with the fear that the Cylons could find Earth first, but Kara hated knowing each day they spent here processing algae was a day farther away from rescuing Sam.

She spent as much time in flight as she could. But it wasn't enough. At least they were finally ready to leave this rock.

"Hey, Captain," Tyrol said approaching to her left.

"Chief." She turned, forcing a smile. She was about to ask if her Raptor was packed when he turned his head sharply as if he'd heard something.

"Chief?" she asked, and he jumped at the sound of her voice, still distracted.

"You hear that?" he whispered.

"Hear what?" she asked, listening closely, but she heard nothing but the wind.

He shook his head. "Never mind. Thought I heard something. Like a bell."

She shrugged. "Maybe the wind's blowing through a rock up there someplace." She gestured toward the high hills that surrounded the encampment.

"Yeah, I guess," he agreed, but glanced up at the highest hill with a frown as if there was something bugging him.

Kara didn't care about weird sounds on this pit. "Stuff all packed in my Raptor to go up? I don't want to be on this hellhole any longer than necessary."

"You that eager to start eating it?" he asked.

"Rather eat it than smell it."

He chuckled and wrinkled his nose. "I don't know about that. But yeah, you're all ready to go, sir. Sooner we get it all taken down, the sooner we can get out of here."

"Thanks, Chief." She slapped his shoulder and started back toward the Raptor, waving at Dee and Lee who were under the awning, overseeing the rest of the operation.

The return trip to _Galactica_ was quick, though not as quick as it could've been, since she threw in some unnecessary maneuvers, unable to resist playing in atmosphere, daring gravity, thumbing her nose at the wind...

Feeling alive.

 

* * *

Sam listened.

The music filled him, taking over his mind, so that it became difficult to think of anything else and speaking required effort. But he could still hear everything around him, even if the Cylons seemed to believe he'd gone deaf on his perch at the front of the command center.

Behind him, he could hear Natalie talking to Thea, her voice low and urgent. "Sister, we can't keep doing this. When we knew it was a vision from God, it was one thing, but this..." she trailed off.

Sam could've finished it for her, 'This is madness.' He knew it looked that way - he had enough awareness to know sitting silently on the stool and occasionally lifting his hand so someone could adjust their course didn't look any kind of sane. He hadn't slept in the two days since he'd left the docking bay, he ate whatever they handed to him, and he left to wash and visit the head only when Thea pulled him.

"This is a vision from God," Thea insisted. "This is our path."

"But path to where?" Natalie asked. "He warned us we were going to die. Permanently."

"Some of us did, with the sickness," Thea reminded her.

Which was true, but Sam could've added that those were only the start.

"He led us into that. And our sisters want to know where he's taking us now," Natalie said. "Do we even know?"

"To Earth," Thea said, now sounding impatient. "He's our oracle, just as he's always been."

"Are you sure we're going to Earth?" Natalie asked. "We're following a sound that doesn't even exist. What if it's nothing more than the whim of someone our own kind drove mad? How long will we follow it?"

"We follow until our faith is proven misplaced," Thea retorted angrily. "But I still keep mine. Do you?"

Natalie didn't answer right away, and when she did, her tone was shaded dark in warning. "For now." She walked away, and Thea came close to Sam, resting her hand on his back.

She murmured to him, so no one else could hear. "If we're not going to Earth, I don't know what will happen..." she said, sounding worried.

He didn't know where they were going either, just that the music was pulling him and he had to go there. He couldn't speak to answer, but he leaned to the side to rest his head against her.

* * *

 

Kara went to report to the admiral after the Raptor was unloaded, finding him with Roslin in his quarters. He waved her in with only half his attention, listening to the wireless.

Roslin's voice was smooth, but Kara could see her face and the gleam of excitement in her eyes as she asked, "Do you really think you've found the Temple of Five?"

Tyrol's voice came back, "_It sure looks like the pictures in my father's books. He was a priest and the temple was an important part of our faith. His faith_."

Kara exchanged a shocked glance with Roslin at the news. The Temple of Five? Tyrol had stumbled on the frakking Temple of Five, in the time it had taken Kara to get to _Galactica_?

Roslin asked eagerly, "Do you think it's related to the Eye of Jupiter?"

"_You got me, Madam President_," Tyrol answered, "_All I know is stuff I kinda remember from sneaking into my dad's study when he wasn't looking_."

"The Eye of Jupiter? What are we talking about?" Adama asked.

"A marker left behind by the Thirteenth Tribe," Kara answered. "Like the beacon at the Lion's Head nebula. It's supposed to point the way to Earth."

The words had barely left her mouth when the alarm blared.

"Chief, we're on alert." The Admiral switched the comm to internal communications. "This is Adama."

Gaeta's voice came through. "_Admiral. Lieutenant Gaeta, CIC. We have dradis contact. One Cylon baseship jumped in system_."

"On our way," Adama returned and stood up.

Kara followed him and Roslin to CIC, unwilling to go back down to pilot quarters if she could listen in CIC. Because one baseship this close to them? Who else could it be?

It was dangerous, it might be a trap, and Lords knew they still had people down on the ground, so this might get really ugly, but she couldn't help smiling to herself on the way to CIC and touching the extra dog tag at her chest.

"Sitrep!" Adama demanded as soon as he came through the door.

"One baseship inbound at high speed," Tigh reported. "Bastard practically jumped right on top of us."

Hoshi added, "Fleet is spooling up their FTL, ready to go at your command."

Adama looked at him. "Do it."

Hoshi acknowledged and turned to the console, hand on his headset to announce the order. Kara watched on dradis as the fleet started to jump out.

"We have to hold this position until the ground crew can be recalled," Adama said tensely, looking up at the dradis as well.

Roslin said, "Admiral, if the Eye of Jupiter is somewhere in that temple, and it really is a marker of the way to Earth… We can't let the Cylons get their hands on it."

He nodded and ordered, "Stand by to launch Vipers. We can take one baseship when they're in range."

Tigh frowned. "Something's odd. They've stopped, holding at outer range. They're not launching Raiders, but they powered their weapons batteries..."

"It's them," Kara said softly, but her voice seemed to echo in the room.

* * *

When they came out of the jump, the music changed to a single tone straight into the middle of his brain as loud and clear as a bell.

It was here.

Sam stood up and turned to leave.

But no one noticed his movement, because there was suddenly shouting and alarm. Natalie announced, "The Colonial Fleet's here!"

"Fleet is jumping away," a Four reported. "_Galactica_ hasn't spooled their drive yet." __

"_Galactica_'s seen us. They're arming weapons!" an Eight called.

"Arm ours right back!" Three ordered. "He brought us here to them! It's a trap!" Three pointed an accusing finger at him.

He looked at her finger for a moment and made his mouth move to talk. "It's here."

"This isn't Earth," Natalie said, shaking her head and looking betrayed. "There's nothing but algae here."

He shook his head once. "I need to go. Find it." His eyes shut, and it was as if there was a physical cord between him and ... whatever it was. "I have to go."

He felt their eyes on them, weighing his words versus the weight of the threat outside.

"Call a truce with Adama," Sharon suggested. "We're not here to attack them."

"We don't even know what we're doing here," Natalie objected. "We should jump out."

Sam spoke, "No. It's here," he insisted, wondering why they couldn't hear it. It was so frakking loud.

"Let him go," Thea pleaded urgently. "I'll go with him, we'll take a Heavy Raider. But we need time to find out why we're here."

"Call for a truce," Sharon suggested again, more loudly, "before he starts lobbing nukes at us. We can't take on _Galactica_ alone."

"And tell him what?" the Three demanded. "That our human brought us here to be slaughtered?"

"That's a lie!" Thea objected. "He brought us here because this is where we're supposed to be."

"He's going to get us all killed," Natalie said.

"They have people on the surface," Sharon said. "Adama will give us a truce to recover them."

Sam decided all the arguing was beside the point. He knew where he had to go. He started for the doorway.

Thea hurried after him, calling over her shoulder to the other Cylons, "Stall for time! Give Sam time to do what he needs to do."

In the corridor on their way to the docking bay, Leoben intercepted them. "Here?" he asked Sam. "You're sure?"

Sam took a moment to find his voice. "Here."

"Then we go." Leoben fell into step and the three of them went to the nearest docking bay, where a Heavy Raider was waiting.

"I'll pilot," Thea offered, and Sam followed her forward. The cargo area was packed with silent, still Centurions. Leoben moved up behind Sam, hand on his shoulder to steady him as the ship rose and darted for the outside.

"If they get in a shooting war, we're in trouble," Thea murmured.

"They won't," Sam said. "This is too important."

He sat in the copilot's chair. Without his hand in the datastream, he couldn't see anything. But that didn't matter. "Give me control."

Thea paused, uncertain and worried. "Are you sure?" She glanced at him and then at Leoben.

"It's okay," Leoben murmured. "Let him do what he needs to do."

With obvious reluctance, she opened Sam's manual controls, and he gripped both control sticks as if he'd done it before. He couldn't see with his eyes and he didn't know where he was going, but he knew how to get there.

* * *

Hoshi turned again in his chair. "Admiral. It's the Cylon baseship, requesting to speak with you."

"They've just launched a Heavy Raider and a squad of Raiders. Course looks like it's going down to the planet," Tigh reported.

The admiral took that in with a nod and then glanced toward the comm station. "Mister Hoshi, go."

They all heard an anxious and familiar voice. "_Admiral, this is Sharon Valerii. Please, I know I've given you no reason to trust me, after what I did. I wasn't strong enough to resist. You don't know how sorry I am. But please listen. We are not here to hurt anyone. We are not here to attack you. We're here because God brought us here. We ask for a truce_."

There was a pause and then Adama responded on his gruff voice, "You've launched a Heavy Raider and a Raider squadron toward the surface. Pull it back or there's no truce."

"But admiral, that Heavy Raider must land. They're not after any of your people. They're looking for why we were brought here."

"They're looking for the Eye of Jupiter," Roslin murmured. "We can't let them have it."

"Pull it back," Adama ordered into the wireless, and then more loudly to CIC at large. "Main batteries target that Heavy Raider."

_"No! Please_!" another female voice came through the wireless urgently. One of the Sixes, Kara thought. "_Don't shoot_!"

A similar voice, but cooler and more controlled, added, "We sent you your man. We sent you food. Isn't that enough to prove our intent? That ship means you no harm."

Roslin leaned forward toward the wireless receiver. "Let's dispense with the posturing and begging. Your ship is going toward the temple, and you want the Eye of Jupiter, same as we do. You may not have it, no matter how many treats you throw our way."

"_The Temple of Five_?" Sharon asked, sounding amazed. "_You found the Temple of Five_?"

Then a Three came over the wireless, "_Let me make this very clear, Admiral. You destroy that Heavy Raider and we will destroy you._"

"_D'Anna, you're not helping_," Sharon hissed, probably not meaning to be heard, and then addressed _Galactica_ again. "_Admiral, Sam Anders is on the Heavy Raider. I don't know if he's looking for the Eye of Jupiter or not, but I do know he needs to find whatever he's trying to find._."

Kara's gaze was pulled irresistibly to the image on the dradis of the ship and its escorting Raiders going down to that planet. He was there. It was as if she could tell it was him now, by the way it was flying.

"Anders is on that Heavy Raider?" Adama asked for confirmation.

Sharon answered, "_Yes, he brought us here, but he's the only one who can find whatever it is that he's seeing. Please. I beg you, for all our sakes_."

Adama hesitated for a moment, then ordered, "Targeting off. Let it land."

"Admiral!" Roslin exclaimed in protest.

"I'm not killing one of my men," he said and then toggled off the wireless.

"You can't do this," Roslin protested. "We don't even know if she's telling the truth!"

"Mister Hoshi, get me Chief Tyrol and Apollo on the ground," Adama ordered.

Tyrol answered immediately. "_Galactica, Tyrol_."

"Have you found it, Chief?" Adama demanded.

"_Sir, I don't know what I'm looking for_."

"We have company who are looking for it, too. So you are to wire that place to blow."

"_But, sir, I just need time to look for it_!" Tyrol objected.

"Chief, wire it. The Cylons can't have it. And they can't have Lieutenant Anders either - he may be inbound to you."

Tyrol sounded briefly stunnd by that news. "_Sir? Yes, sir_."

Then Lee's voice, "_Admiral, Apollo_."

"Apollo, you're about to get company. You need to use all the personnel you have to guard Chief and his people until that temple is ready to blow. And if you get the chance, grab Anders and bring him home. But above all, keep the Cylons from the temple."

"_Aye, sir_."

Adama closed the transmission and met Roslin's look. "We won't let them have it, and I intend to take my lieutenant back as well." Then his gaze went to Kara. "What are you waiting for, captain? Take out the Raiders, but make sure the others understand the Heavy Raider is not a target, until someone eyeballs what it's carrying. Go."

"Yes, sir!" She ran out of CIC, racing to gear up and hearing the call for the alert pilots to go.

In the gear room, she met Duck, who gave her a grin. "So, is it true?"

"All of it, including the news that Sam's on that Heavy Raider. So let's go make sure Apollo and Tyrol can get to him."

"Got your six," he promised.

"Let's go."


	14. Reborn in Blood

"Viper squadron inbound," Thea reported quietly. "They're coming for us."

The Raiders moved to protect their bigger cousin, forming a screen and drawing the Vipers from their tail.

But as the Vipers fired at the Raiders, Sam felt each of them die, like little blades slipping between his ribs. Then one in particular darted directly into the path of a Viper tracer round headed for the Heavy Raider, and the Raider exploded.

"No!" he gasped. He couldn't breathe, as the mental connection burned away. And suddenly, he felt focused again and present, back in his body, except he didn't want to be, because the loss hurt. His Raider, the one who had saved him and comforted him and played with him, was gone.

Leoben put a hand on his shoulder. "They will all resurrect, Sam. The baseship already began the process at the instant of death."

"Will it... will it still know me?" he asked softly. "After?"

"Yes. And its knowledge of you, its... affection will spread with its resurrection," Leoben comforted him. "You'll see it again."

Thea said, in a very surprised voice, "The Raiders are gone, but the Vipers are keeping their distance. They're following us, but not one of them is locking weapons."

"They know Sam's aboard," Leoben guessed.

"It doesn't matter," Sam murmured. For a moment, he was clear-headed enough to wonder whether Kara was one of the pilots, but the tone filled his head again, and the thought slipped away. "I have to go there."

"We won't let them stop you," Leoben promised and moved to the back to wake the Centurions. Sam wanted to protest, but the words wouldn't come. He had to find it.

Thea grabbed the controls away from Sam as the Heavy Raider burned at a high rate of speed through the atmosphere and trembled violently. She forced the ship to slow down. The ship emerged into the smoother air of the atmosphere and cruised high above across the planet's surface.

"Here. It's here." Sam lunged across to the controls, pushing the stick down and sending the ship into a dive.

"Sam!" Thea shoved him away with one hand and tried to pull up. The engine screamed against the pull of gravity and their momentum, unable to stop their descent, and they slammed into the ground. He was thrown forward in his harness and he heard the Centurions shift with a metallic clatter. Leoben hit the back of Sam's seat with a thud.

"Sam! What the hell were you doing?" Thea cradled her stomach with her hand, panting.

Panic overlaid the music for a moment, thinking his stunt might have injured her or the baby. "Sorry, God, I'm sorry," he murmured, contrite, and put a hand over hers. "Are you all right?"

She nodded, still looking shaken by the near-crash. "We're okay."

"Leoben?" Sam turned to find the other Cylon was picking himself up with the help of one of the Centurions.

"I'm not hurt, but I"m in no hurry to do it again," Leoben said dryly. "The ship is too badly damaged to fly. We'll have to go the rest of the way on foot."

Sam nodded. "It's that way, not far," he pointed, having no idea what he was pointing at from inside the ship, but he still heard the tone that pulled him on. Thea unfastened her seat belt and stood up. "Maybe you should stay here?" he asked, now worried for her. "It'll be safer."

She shook her head, smiling now. "Maybe. Except you'll walk right off a cliff without someone to watch over you. Let's find this thing."

"Centurions first," Leoben ordered and opened the back hatch.

* * *

Kara flew as slowly as she could above where the Heavy Raider had gone down, on the reverse side of the ridge from Apollo's defenses. This side was all sheer rock and steep slopes, not the more gentle approach toward the entrance on the opposite side.

"Never could land worth a damn," she muttered after seeing it plummet like a frakking rock. But it didn't appear to be too damaged, and she made another pass hoping she'd see him leave the craft.

But the first thing she saw were Centurions. Lots and lots of Centurions.

She reported into the wireless. "Apollo, Starbuck. Eyeballing a twelve-pack of tin cans stuffing the Turkey. At least." Then she glimpsed very pale colored hair behind all the shiny chrome. "And a Model Six, probably their boss."

"_And our target, Starbuck_?"

"Negative, Apollo. No joy on the Turkey."

'No joy.' Never had that seemed more appropriate. She had to swallow back her disappointment. But the wireless cut in with another transmission to distract her. "_All Vipers, Galactica. Return ASAP. Three more bogeys inbound_."

Frak. Three more baseships. She was tempted to put a rocket into the Heavy Raider, just because she was pissed at Sharon's lie, but her finger held back from pressing the trigger until she was out of position. She hit the afterburners to climb back into space, she saw the glint of the metal Centurions far below.

They'd been suckered, but now it was Lee's turn to deal with them.

* * *

The Centurions led the way, helping to find a path and following Sam's minimal directions.

Sam recognized the place from his visions - the pale, low plants, the weird brightness of the sun, the shape of the mountains. And he knew where to go.

He was about to send the Centurions on ahead, when he reconsidered. "All of you, go around that way. That's where they are. I need you to distract and hold their attention as long as possible," he ordered. Then realizing he was sending in Centurions against Fleet personnel, he swallowed and added, "Don't kill any of them. Just keep them pinned down. Go."

Thea confirmed his order to them, and they trotted away around the western slope. Sam watched them go, praying he hadn't done something terrible. "That is well-meant," Leoben murmured, "but they won't hold the humans for long."

"I don't need long. Just long enough," he answered and took the lead. He helped Thea once or twice on the steepest parts, and soon they stood at the base of a blank rock face, easily fifty meters high.

"Where now?" Thea asked, wiping away the sweat from her face and catching her breath.

"We go inside."

Although it seemed that the entire rock face was humming, there was still a bit of a pull to the right, so he moved that way, searching with his eyes, knowing it was close. At the edge of the small platform where they stood was a narrow vertical crevice, which looked barely wide enough for a dog. The tone was emanating from there.

Without hesitation Sam wriggled his way inside. It was a tight fit, but he was able to push his way through to where the crack widened out into a passage, tall enough he didn't have to duck his head. Once the sunlight from outside was blocked, the passage was dark, but he continued forward, hands trailing the walls to either side.

"You know where you're going?" Leoben murmured.

"If I don't, we're all frakked aren't we?" he returned and kept walking. But he had no doubt. He'd found the way inside. The passage remained a single tunnel leading deep into the mountain, without no connecting passages, and the walls were smooth. It was not a natural tunnel.

When he pushed the stone at the end of the passageway and it moved as if it had been waiting for him, he wasn't really surprised.

When he stepped through, the music stopped. For the first time in weeks, he heard **nothing**.

He paused and for a moment, closed his eyes to listen to the silence.

Then he looked around. The whole place was lit by just a few electric lights, casting most of it into faded but still obvious grandeur.

The Temple looked exactly as he had seen it in other visions, which made it seem more like a vision than reality. There was a massive central column reaching up toward the barely visible roof, and shorter ones, too, shaped like pentagonal prisms. The stone was smooth and mostly bare of decoration, and felt unfinished, as if the builders had been interrupted. The main pillar was carved with writing, in an old script he couldn't read.

"The Temple of Five," Thea breathed.

Sam stared around. Though he remembered the Scrolls had called it that, he shook his head and murmured, "No. It's true name is the Temple of Hopes."

Leoben looked at him, in surprise. "Temple of Hopes? I've never heard of that before."

Before Sam could speak, Thea exclaimed in alarm, "Oh, no! They've set explosives." She hurried to the nearest column where there was a big block of what looked like G-4 explosive and a bunch of wires. She ripped out the detonator and threw it on the floor. "Help me!" she said, moving to the next one. "Sam, Leoben, hurry. We don't know how much time we have."

Leoben started to tear out the detonators as well, but Sam walked instead over to the shortest of the central pillars.

He reached out, spreading his hand on the pentagonal surface. The stone felt warm under his hand. The faint scent of sickly sweet incense touched his nose, and he shuddered. His gaze snapped to the large painted circles on the floor. They seemed to move, to swirl... he blinked, trying to clear his vision.

The dim interior changed, as the light turned reddish from the light of lanterns, becoming the same place, but a different time...

_...They force him to lie flat on the floor. More people come in slowly, until there are people all around; he can feel them even though he can't see them. He can hear their breathing filling the space. There is something anticipatory about the silence, and it fills him with dread._

_They gave him some kind of drug, to make him hazy and weak. He stares upward at the ceiling and it seems impossibly far away. His limbs are leaden and refuse to move more than a twitch._

_He knows what this is. He's seen it before, smelled this incense before, when he was fighting this horror. His people suffered this, and yet here it is, evil resurrected._

_The stone is hard, but smooth beneath his bare back. "We will pray," says the voice of the man who's going to kill him. He shows Sam the knife - a ritual sacrifice blade from Kobol, marked with the glyphs of the cult of Hades. Those knives had been banned from the ship and there shouldn't be one here. The priest of the lord of the dead has fervent eyes, as bright as the steel blade of his knife. "The memory transfer and the growing chambers are being destroyed, right now," he tells Sam in spiteful pleasure. "The blasphemy of resurrection has been burned away. The other four heretics are dead, and you -- your blood will flow to purify this temple, and you will die so the gods know we repent. They will listen and guide us from the wilderness."_

_"No. We fought... for freedom," Sam protests. His mouth moves strangely as though his tongue has turned to stone._

_The priest's face contorts in rage and he backhands Sam across the face. "We were banished! Because of you!"_

_"No..." Sam whispers, but they don't hear._

_The chant to Hades begins, and he wants to shout at them that they are Psi-Lon -- they believe in science, not this abomination._

_He tries to speak. "No. We stopped Death," he protests again. "We wanted immortality. Why is eternity only for the gods?"_

_But the words don't leave his lips, because there's a hand over his mouth keeping him silent. He looks up into pitiless, vengeful eyes - eyes that have lost all hope -- and he looks at a man willing to betray all that they are and return to what they abhor, for what scraps the gods might throw their way._

_Hands hold his arms out to either side of his body and he feels the bite of the blade on his left. The knife is sharp enough there's little pain at first, but then it hits, shooting up his arm. He tries to pull away, but the grip is too strong. The knife slices his other inner arm and wrist, and Sam cries out, beneath the hand over his mouth, but no one can hear him above the chanting of the watchers._

_His people learned well from the humans: the thought is bitter and angry._

_The priest watches the blood flow from the wounds. Sam has the moment's hope that it's done, and they intend to watch him bleed to death. But that's not enough for the priest, who lifts the knife again. Sam tenses as the priest sets the knife in the middle of his sternum and carves the glyph of the Lord of Death into Sam's skin. Each cut is down to the bone, and he would scream, but the drug has stolen his voice and his strength, and all he can do is endure through the agony. Time crawls forward, endless. He feels the blood creeping in rivulets down his sides and pooling around his body. His heart beats more quickly, frantic but futile, spilling more blood onto the floor._

_His gaze lifts to the symbol he placed on the central pillar. He dreamed of those circles, and he still wants to believe it means something hopeful for his people. But that same symbol is underneath him, and it's covered in his own blood. If it's still a sign of hope, it's not for him._

_His mind floats and the pain fades as shock sets in. It's a familiar feeling, since he's transferred twice before, but if resurrection is barred, he doesn't know what happens next...._

The hellish light turned yellow again, and the crowd was gone. Sam drew a panting breath, and his hand grabbed the pedestal as his legs trembled.

"I died here," he whispered.

"Sam?" Thea asked in confusion.

He stared at the circles on the floor and repeated, in a voice like dust, "I died here."

Not just him, but all five leaders of the rebellion on Kobol died here, in agony, sacrificed to appease desperate people and an angry god. His mind whirled with the vision, memories hard as stones as they struck.

... _blood stark against the light stone, flowing over the edge of the low dais_...

He blinked the vision away.

The Hybrid had said he would be reborn here. That meant there had to be more. But surely none of it could be as terrible as remembering himself tortured and sacrificed.

His whole body was shaking, but he forced himself away from the pedestal, staggering for the first few steps.

"No," Thea rushed up to him and held on to his arm. "We need to go. The humans are going to come here any minute."

"I have to do this. I have to be the one who sees," he insisted.

His gaze caught Leoben's, who was staring at him with the transported expression of a revelation.

But Sam didn't care that Leoben knew something. His eyes fell away from the other Cylon and went back to the circles on the floor.

He remembered the vision of standing there and the floor falling out from under him. He remembered "Kara" warning him that he might go mad with the truth. He only had part of it, and already wanted to curl up in the corner and clutch at his head. Maybe madness would be a relief.

"No, don't. Sam, don't do this," Thea said, fear in her voice and every line of her body, clutching at him desperately. But nothing could hold him back now, not when he knew the answers were there.

He didn't even look at her as he pushed her off. Terror tightened his chest so much he thought his heart might burst, but he forced himself forward, toward that mandala on the floor.

On the outer edge of the circles, the Temple brightened. At first he thought he was seeing another vision or projection, but glancing up, he saw that the dome was opening, letting in brilliant sunlight which was shining on him like a spotlight.

Then he drew a deep breath and he stepped into the place where he had died more than three thousand years before...

And he saw.

Circles and lives and death and war... images one after another. Flashes of different times and places, some still to come, some long ago, but all him.

His own time on the wheel of fate. His own lives.

...

_  
Earth. He stands on the beach and looks across the water at the gleaming towers of the city. He has his guitar in his hands, but he's not playing it.  
_

_"And so it goes around again," she whispers behind him, and her hands caress his shoulders. "You lost your chance to come home to me."_

_There's a high-pitched scream of something falling very fast from the sky._

_..._

_... A yellow flower falls into the stream of blood falling from the sacrifice on the table. Then more blood joins it, as he and his followers start firing their weapons at the priests lining the edge of the platform. The rage is a white-hot fire inside and he screams his frustration and hate, "No more!"..._

_..._

_He turns around in the middle of the cavern and exchanges a glance with Galen. "Here. We will build it here and pray."_

_"If the gods listen to us," Galen murmurs for Sam's ears alone._

_Sam answers, "Haven't we been punished enough? We're lost, alone, and we can't go back to Kobol. Our people are losing hope. Surely the gods will grant us mercy. We're still their children."_

_"But what will they want in return?" Galen asks, and Sam knows he's right. The gods give nothing for free. Will they demand a forfeit? A sacrifice?_

_..._

_... a storm on a gas giant, a swirling hurricane the size of Caprica. He's piloting a Viper inside it and he knows this is the end. He has no choice. He has to open the way home..._

_...._

_Standing before a kind of Centurion, he puts out a hand, palm upward, curious about what the Centurion will do. At first it does nothing, sensors sweeping around the room, then slowly it reaches out with one hand. The hand rests lightly atop Sam's and the fingers curl around his hand, and it speaks: "Father."_

_Sam smiles with pride and excitement, knowing he's given the machines the gift of sentience at last. These soldiers will now have free will, to become the people he believes they were meant to be..._

_..._

_Standing with the other four in the room as Tory and Galen try frantically to open the door. Ellen screams at the camera carrying their image to someone else on the ship: "John! John, no! Don't do this!"_

_The rushing wind of the air being sucked from the room yanks at Sam's ears and his lungs start to burn. He falls to his knees and his last conscious thought is that they've failed..._

_..._

_... on his knees, he faces the bulkhead, feeling the gun barrel against his head. "Do it!" he orders someone unseen behind him and his voice rises to a desperate shout, "Kill me! You have to do it now. DO IT!"_

_..._

_... running alone through the tumbled ruins of what were once beautiful buildings, he knows the ground troops are closing in and he darts, searching frantically for a way out. But there isn't one; the bombings have left only shattered columns and piles of rubble, and nowhere to hide. He stumbles to a stop, realizing the partial façade before him is the Opera House._

_It started here during a showing of a new minimalist version of Kardilis' War of the Gods, a lifetime ago; he'd met Saul during intermission and they shook hands on forming the Psi Alliance, joining their groups together. It was time to announce to the world at large that science was the future and they had found a way to live forever. Nothing had gone to plan, though. Cultists reacted and killed them. Psilons protested when the government did nothing about the violence and then tried to put everyone who was in a new body into walled compounds for 'their own protection.'_

_Protest became rebellion became civil war, and families tore each other apart._

_And now, there's no one here. There are no gardens, no trees, no beauty, no people. Only stone and dust._

_"What have I done?" he whispers and stares in dismay. He wants to be angry still. But he sees the skeletons caught under the rubble near his feet, and feels sick. He can't know if they were humans or psilons -- in death, they're the same. He started a war for freedom, and now his people have less than they started with. So much blood and death spent for nothing._

_Behind him, the sound of the engine grows closer, nearly overhead, and he whirls and fires at the flying weapons platform in defiance and anguish. They don't waste a single bullet on his defeat. His small arms fire bounces from the armor without effect, until he pulls the trigger and nothing happens._

_The speaker from the craft is loud, ordering, "It's over. You're surrounded. Surrender!"_

_He opens his hand and lets the empty gun fall to the ground, realizing too late he should have saved one of those bullets for himself._

_When the troops surround him, he raises his hands and lets them take him._

_..._

_... in the Opera House, standing before the large wooden door with unidentifiable beings of light near him, watching. Waiting._

_He reaches out and clasps the knob in his fingers, the draping sleeve of the white robe coming into view._

_He turns the knob slowly and pulls the door open. Brilliant light rushes out and fills his vision, and he knows the cycles have come to their end, at last._

 

* * *

Leoben yanked Sam from the streaming light and staggered into Thea. Together, they eased Sam down, his head pillowed in her lap. She stroked his hair and her glance at Leoben was with a frown. "You know where we are. You know who he must be," she said, but she couldn't quite say the words aloud.

He nodded and said with calm assurance, and yet awe in his light eyes, "He's one of the Final Five."

As if hearing the words broke some invisible chain inside her head, Thea repeated more easily, "The Final Five. He's a Cylon, like us."

Leoben shook his head. "Not like us. Different."

She looked down at Sam's thin face, ravaged by pain and exhaustion. His blue eyes were open but blank, as he stared into a vision only he could see. One of the Final Five. She had always believed he was an oracle, even a prophet, but this was more than she ever dreamed. She put her other hand on her belly and her unborn daughter. "She's not a hybrid," she realized in awe. "This is the first Cylon child."

"She's more of a miracle than we knew," Leoben agreed.

"He knew," she said, looking down at Sam and putting together all the small things he'd done and said, especially his look of resignation and fear when he'd gone to the infected baseship. He'd thought he might die, but he'd gone anyway.

"He's always known," Leoben agreed softly, "But now I think he can't deny it anymore." He glanced toward the entranceway at the sound of movement. "We mustn't tell the humans."

"No, we say nothing," she agreed fervently.

In her lap, Sam blinked and groaned, coming back to himself.

"Sam, wake up," she told him, "we need to get out of here."

When his eyes finally flickered open, she gasped. For just a moment, he was a stranger. There was nothing of Sam Anders there at all, and the look in his eyes was ancient and unfathomable. He was one of the Final Five, and in that moment she understood that he was more that a Cylon model like her that had gotten lost. There was something deeper hidden inside him, and for that time when blue eyes met hers without recognition, she felt afraid.

Then he blinked and it passed. He was Sam again, and she caressed his face, trying to ease away the confusion and pain.


	15. Revealed by the Light of a Dying Star

Lee was ready to leave this planet, if only the Cylons would let them. Everyone left on the surface was gathered here on this ridge, holding back the small army of Centurions that wanted to get into the temple behind them.

Dee handed him the canteen and he drank, unable to resist a small smile at her. Even covered by dust and sweat, she was still so frakking gorgeous, he could hardly believe it. She turned her head, glaring fiercely toward their enemies as if she was a marine and fired off some shots at a Centurion, which had emerged from cover behind a large boulder. It didn't fall, but she managed to push it back.

He prayed the admiral could send some help before the group ran out of ammo. He took out his last grenade. "Think you could get this behind that big rock?" he asked Barolay on his other side.

She gave him a look that would've made him chuckle in other circumstances. "Seventy-six percent from the foul line, Major. Only eight players in the premiere league ranked better. And none of 'em are here." She grabbed the grenade from him and pulled the pin, waiting for the right moment. "You know this is weird," she muttered, and then when the Centurions paused in their firing, she hurled it overhand with Pyramid-playing precision over the big rock and into the attacking Centurion line.

After the bang and the satisfying sound of metal getting smashed around, he asked, "Weird? How?"

"They're not attacking us," she answered.

A Centurion sprayed bullets at them, kicking up dirt behind them, and he ducked, yelling, "What the hell is that, if they're not attacking us?"

Barolay explained, "They should rush us. They've got the numbers." She added with a frown, "And nobody's dead."

"Isn't that a good thing?" Dee asked. "And they shot Hilliard. He could've been killed." She pointed at the hasty bandage she'd put on Hilliard's shoulder and arm.

"No, the ensign's right," Gunny Mathias agreed, crawling back from the left to rejoin the group. "I tried to flank them, Major," she reported in a low, urgent voice. "But they're holed up. They had Hilliard dead to rights - a shot no chrome-dome should miss -- and it shot him in the shoulder. I think they're keeping us pinned down, and they're avoiding kill shots."

Centurions fired toward them, reminding the Humans they were there, but Lee realized Mathias and Barolay were right; the toasters hadn't advanced since engaging. And if they were really not shooting to kill, they'd only do that because they were ordered not to. He frowned in the direction of the chrome jobs. "But why? There's got to be a reason... They've got a whole squad - they could've outflanked us ten minutes ago." Then he realized something else. Kara had seen a Six, but they'd seen no sign of her in the fight. He turned on Tyrol, who was squatting nearby holding the trigger box. "Chief, is there another way into the Temple?"

Galen shrugged, wide-eyed. "Not that I saw."

"Well, these are here to distract us for some reason. Blow the temple. Blow it **now**!"

Galen's hand hovered on the button, and trembled, then he shook his head, looking anguished, and thrust the remote at Apollo. "I can't, I can't do it. It's a holy place. I can't."

Apollo grabbed it and slammed his hand down on the button, holy place or not.

But nothing happened. He pushed it again. Nothing. "Frak, Chief, what have you done?"

But Tyrol wasn't paying attention to him. "Major, look," Tyrol was looking upward, and Lee followed his gaze up, toward the sun.

It looked different, with strange colored haloes around it.

"It looks like the mandala on the floor in there," Tyrol whispered. "It's going nova. Major, maybe the star is the Eye of Jupiter."

That was ridiculous. The Eye of Jupiter was a thing, like the beacon, not a star exploding at exactly the wrong time. "Chief, fix the charges and blow the temple. We'll retreat to higher ground. Go!"

 

* * *

Sam stirred, feeling dazed. Memories, visions, whatever they were tumbled in his head, and when he opened his eyes he saw the Temple as it was and as it had been long ago, the images atop each other.

But then a familiar face leaned into view, and he recognized Thea. "Hey."

"We need to go," she murmured and pushed at him so he could sit up.

Boots on stone surprised them both, and Sam looked up.

Galen.

It was dizzying -- Galen as he was now, and Galen from before. Galen, over and over again, flashing in his memories. Different sometimes, but always Galen...

In the present, he had a gun, and he didn't seem to share the same memories, as he recognized Sam on the floor. "Hold it! Let him go, toaster!" he ordered Thea.

Sam's voice was hoarse. "She's with me, Galen. So's Leoben. There's no need to be afraid of them."

Galen stared in confusion, and then shook his head once, lowering the gun. "This planet is about to turn into a cinder," he told them. "Let's move. We'll deal with it when we're out of here."

Thea and Leoben helped Sam to his feet, when Barolay ran in. She pulled up short, staring in shock. "Sam?"

"Hey, babe," he greeted with an effort at a smile. "I brought friends."

Then she was staring at Thea and her belly. "Holy frak," she whispered. "Is that--?"

Thea lifted her chin and rested her free hand on the baby. "Our child, yes. Our miracle of God."

That froze Jean for just a heart beat, then she shook her head at him. "What is it with men who can't keep it in their pants and knock up Cylon women?"

Sam's smile widened, and he knew they were going to be okay.

"We gotta move, people, let's go," Tyrol barked anxiously. "Jupiter's not waiting for us."

Sam turned back at the entrance archway. This beautiful, deadly place was going to be gone soon. He remembered the hope of succor from the gods, drowned in blood. The hope he'd painted into the floor and the column with his own hands as a message to the future: _Here is hope for others, but none for you. It is your fate to bleed and die in this place, time and again._

"Sam, hurry," Thea tugged him forward and they hurried to the S&amp;R birds waiting nearby.

Sharon turned to see them as they ran into her Raptor, and her eyes went straight to the pregnancy as well. "Oh my God," she whispered.

"**GO**, Sharon!" Tyrol shouted and punched the hatch.

She lifted off and they raced for the sky as the first shockwave arrived.

Sam held Thea through the rough flight, wrapping his arms around her to keep her steady as the Raptor shook and bounced, trying to keep her safe. He knew he would make it. If his vision was true, it wouldn't end here.

... _a storm on a gas giant, a swirling hurricane the size of Caprica. He's piloting a Viper inside it and he knows this is the end. He has no choice. He has to open the way home_...

The end was coming, but it was not here. Not yet.

* * *

Kara waited on the floor, surrounded by security, as the Raptor depressurized and the engine roar died away to nothing. The hatch cracked open. Tyrol was the first out.

Then a Cylon - one of the Leoben models. Kara's throat tightened to see him there. It had been a long time, but she still remembered him from her interrogation.

Then Sam appeared in the doorway.

Kara stared. It was really him. He was wearing a grey shirt with the sleeves cut off, black pants, looking slim and fit with those shoulders she loved. But his hair was surprisingly shaggy, and he didn't smile at the sight of home. His face was thin, eyes shadowed, and when he stopped on the wing and stared with blank weariness into the crowd, he didn't seem to be seeing anything at all. Then he twitched and his gaze flicked to Tigh, who stood at the front of the marines. Then Sam took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, as if steeling himself for something, and turned back to offer his hand to a woman emerging from the Raptor behind him.

It was a model Six. She smiled at Sam as she put her hand in his to let him help her down.

Kara gasped, and she heard her gasp echoed through the docking bay. The Six was pregnant, her stomach distinctly rounded and protruding, even though the rest of her remained thin.

And there was pretty much no doubt, given that the Cylon didn't release Sam's hand when they were on the floor and he didn't move away when she leaned against him, that he had to be the father.

Kara started to move, pushing her way through the marines.

"Kara!" Sam saw her finally. His face lit up for an instant with a bright grin, though the grin was gone by the time she was standing in front of him.

She clenched a fist and punched him in the face. He staggered and fell back onto the Raptor wing, holding his nose and looking up at her. He didn't look surprised.

"You son of a bitch," she hissed at him, standing over him. "All this time I waited for you; I prayed you were alive. And you come back in bed with the Cylons."

"Kara - " he started, maybe as protest or explanation.

But she had no intention of listening to him. Ever again. "Frak you, Sam."

She turned and left, rage and hurt bubbling inside like Tylium waiting for a spark. And she was fiercely, bitterly glad to hear Tigh order him under arrest.

* * *

 

Kara couldn't help watching. It was like being drawn to an accident - she knew it would be horrible, but when she heard Roslin was going to interrogate Sam, she couldn't stay away. Kara sat in the observation room, looking at Sam through the smoky glass and up on the monitor, thinking this had to be a nightmare.

But no, there he was, sitting in one of the chairs, in that gray tanktop, single dog tag hanging on his chest. Maybe it was the lights giving his skin a bluish pallor, but he looked more pale and drawn than he had on the hangar deck. He even seemed smaller somehow, as if he sat farther away than he was. Metal hand-cuffs bound his wrists, but he didn't seem to care. His gaze was unfocused, staring past the plastic cup of water on the table.

Roslin seated herself across from him, and the guards who'd come in with her stood against the wall with weapons ready in case he did anything. But all he did was glance up and say politely, "President Roslin."

"Lieutenant Anders." She settled in her chair and regarded him. "So tell me, Lieutenant," Roslin said, "why I shouldn't airlock you as a traitor."

"I'm not a traitor," he answered. His voice was flat - matter-of-fact but tired, as if he was saying something he'd said many times already.

"And yet, there you were, on the planet apparently of your own will. With two Cylons, one of them pregnant with what she claims is your child."

He snorted softly. "I don't know if I'd say my own will, but yes, my baby."

Kara flinched, feeling the fury inside at the unfairness - she'd been loyal, she'd held onto the hope he was alive. She'd had dreams of him, believing they were true. Only to find out when she finally saw him again, he'd been betraying her with a Cylon all along.

"They even said you brought them there. So how are you not a traitor?" Roslin asked.

Sam stared back at Roslin, his face like stone. "When you've walked my path, then you can judge me. Not 'til then."

She made a small hard smile. "I'm the president; I can judge you if I want."

"Shall I call you Admiral Cain then?" he retorted, and she stiffened. "No, you can't judge me. I don't answer to you. I'm not afraid of you or your airlock."

"Because you'll resurrect?" she asked.

He laughed once, humorlessly. "No. I'll die just like you. But you won't kill me."

"You shouldn't be so sure of that," she warned. "Ask your friend Leoben."

"You still don't understand. I **know**." He shook his head, a faint, unamused twist on his lips that soon faded. He looked down at his cuffed hands on the table in front of him. "The Temple called to me. A hundred light-years away, I could hear it. It buzzed in my brain, a noise no one else could hear. I couldn't sleep, could barely eat... all I could think about was finding where it was coming from. In the Temple, the noise finally stopped. And then the Eye opened, and I saw. I saw the Fall of Kobol. I saw … I know.... I know too much." His voice fell to a whisper and he shut his eyes, pain and weariness in every line of his body and his voice.

For a moment, there was silence, and then Roslin asked, in a very different tone, one of wonder, "You saw Kobol? Did you see the exodus? The departure of the Thirteenth?"

"I saw," he answered. When he lifted his face, he saw nothing in the room, staring back into the vision that darkened his unseeing gaze.

"Tell me," she leaned forward, eagerly as a child.

His voice came out low, barely above a murmur, and for a moment it didn't seem to be Sam's voice at all. "I see... it rise and fall, and rise again, to fall again, darker and worse than before. Voices once raised in song screamed in rage and terror. The flowers drowned in the blood of children butchered because they had been born... And Athena wept for the souls of the lost."

She stared at him, the same horror in his eyes now reflecting in hers. "What more?" she prompted, her fingers twisted tightly together as if in prayer. "There must be more."

"Earth. I see Earth -- " He held out his manacled hands, fingers extended as if he could touch what he was seeing. "Blue and green, with white clouds. The Thirteenth Tribe built there -- spires of light and gardens to the horizon. It's beautiful... When you reach it, they're waiting for you."

"How do we get there?" she asked, breathlessly. "How?"

His hands dropped and he blinked, coming back to himself with a twitch. He stared down at his hands as if unsure whether they were even his. "I don't know. That's not my path. I thought it was, but it's not."

"Where then?" she asked.

"No." She reacted as if he'd slapped her, though the word was quietly spoken. He went on, not even looking at her, "It's knowledge no one should have. Including me. It's too much. Too many pieces scattered in my head." He slumped forward across the table, and raised his bound hands to push his fingers into his hair, holding his head. He let out a deep sighing breath, and looked upward, straight toward where the Cylons were being kept. "I want to see my daughter. If I didn't have Iris to wait for… I would step in that airlock myself. She's how God keeps me walking the path even when I know how it ends," he added with a hard bitterness. He shut his eyes and whispered, "I'm so tired."

Kara was suddenly strangely glad for Thea and the baby growing inside her, if that was the only thing keeping Sam from stepping into an airlock. She reminded herself that he'd got that daughter by sleeping with a Cylon, but the thought didn't have the bite anymore. There was something deeply wrong with him, she could see that now that her shock and hurt had faded. The blue eyes she'd seen bright with mirth and joy of flying were shadowed, sunken with exhaustion, and his expressions were fleeting and edged in something painful. Whatever he'd seen had been too much, too heavy, and it had crushed him beneath its weight.

After a moment of considering him in silence, Roslin gathered her thoughts and said, "You say 'God'. You believe in the Cylon god?"

He shrugged. "I … believe in … something. You can call it god or Zeus or the creator, or the universe itself. It's the same thing."

"That's blasphemy to most believers," Roslin pointed out.

"To the Cylons, too," he snorted. She smiled, knowing it was true, but he continued, "Before the attacks, I only cared about getting the ball in the goal and getting laid. I drank, took stims, and the only time I went to a temple was to sign autographs. Then the worlds ended. Something or someone took that pyramid player, broke him into little bitty pieces and remade him into an oracle."

"A Cylon oracle?" she asked, casually, as if she could trick him into admitting he was a Cylon himself.

He laughed at her, abrupt and harsh and biting with scorn. "Do you think your little boxes still apply? One box for Humans and one for Cylons? One is good, one is evil? So what is Hera? What is Iris? What am I? What are you? It's not that simple any more, if it ever was."

She stiffened at the attack, and snapped back, "The Cylons are our enemy. If you've forgotten they destroyed our home--"

His temper sparked, and he straightened so quickly the cuffs rattled. His eyes fixed on hers, blazing with the first sign of life. "I was there. You weren't. I watched people die, as they coughed up their lungs from radiation poisoning. I blew up buildings full of humans because they were hooked up to machines and it was better to be dead. So frak you, I know who the enemy is."

"Then why--" she started.

He cut her off. "I also know who it's not. It's not Thea, it's not Sharon Valerii who had no choice in what she was, it's not Leoben who kept the Twos from New Caprica because he believed in me. The enemy are those who refuse to change. So that's the question, Laura - are you going to be Cavil and stay fixed in your black-and-white views, or can you see shades of gray? Because that's the only way you'll see Earth, I promise you that."

Roslin's lips pursed as she thought about his words. Kara wondered if it was true that none of the Leobens had been on New Caprica. Given what she remembered about the model, it didn't surprise her that they would all believe in Sam's visions, but still, it was more proof that the Cylons were not the monolithic entity the Fleet assumed them to be.

Roslin said, "The Cylons seem to think they'll get to Earth without you. That's what that Three said, right before all the baseships jumped away. They couldn't wait to get rid of you."

The passion leached out of his expression and he gave a little shrug. "I'm sure. They were afraid."

"Of you?"

"I told them the price to Earth. They didn't want to believe me." He chuckled bitterly. "Though that might have been the insanity."

"What's the price to Earth?" she asked.

"For them? Death. They weren't very happy to hear that. But they're not going to escape it, whether I'm there or not."

"What about us? Is there a price for us to find Earth?"

He sighed. "There will be."

"And you, Sam? Is there a price you're going to pay for Earth?"

"Oh, I keep paying, and paying and paying," he murmured, staring away into the distance. "Even though I didn't want any of this."

She let that linger for a little while, then said, "I promise, no matter what you answer, you and Thea and your unborn child will be safe. But I need to hear the truth. Are you a Cylon?"

For an instant, he said nothing. Kara felt her heart seize up in fear as she waited for his answer, wondering if he was going to be honest, wanting to warn him that Roslin had promised the exact same thing to Leoben right before throwing him out an airlock... She wasn't even sure what she wanted the answer to be.

When he spoke, his words came slowly, admitting, "I ... don't know. I'm not like Thea. I know that. It should be impossible for two Cylons to have a child. I was born of human parents on Picon, as far as I know. But... the more I see, the more I remember, the more I feel the human parts fall away. It's like I'm becoming something else, something new. Or maybe something so old we've forgotten the word for it."

He paused, expression distant and eyes fixed on some hidden darkness, then he laughed once and shook off the mood. "Or I took too much chamalla and too many pills and I'm completely frakked in the head. Frak if I know. But I swear I was just trying to do what I thought was right. That's ... all I ever try to do," he finished heavily and rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands as if he had a headache.

Roslin watched him, staying silent for a long time, and drew in a deep breath. "It's all true, isn't it?" she asked finally. He nodded. She asked, "You really don't know how to find Earth?"

"No. Maybe I will, but not right now. And please don't try to make me give it to you. That didn't work out so well for the Cylons when they did it."

"You'll tell us if you see something about Earth? Or the path?"

"Yes."

"Yes?" she repeated, surprised. "Just 'yes'? No attempt to bargain?"

He glanced up and said dryly, "I figured you'd be smart enough not to threaten Thea and my child." He didn't speak the counter-threat that lingered momentarily in the air. Kara had no idea what he might do in retaliation if she harmed them, but she had not a doubt that Sam would find a way. It seemed Roslin didn't either. Then he shrugged. "Besides, the Cylons are ahead of you. I don't want Cavil to get there first any more than you do."

She hesitated then nodded, making her choice. "Then you're free. Remove his cuffs," she ordered. "Let him visit the Cylon."

His surprise was tangible. "Really?"

"As someone reminded me not long ago," Roslin glanced at the mirrored window, straight at Kara, "we can't blind ourselves to the chance for peace. The Cylons stay in the brig, but I won't have them killed. I believe you, Lieutenant Anders. Don't make me regret that belief."

He merely nodded. "Thank you."

Her expression softened. "And get some rest. You look like hell."

* * *

Kara watched on the monitor as Sam entered Sharon's old cell. He moved a little way inside and stopped. Thea was sitting on the cot and she smiled at Sam, but her smile faded as she saw something in his face. "Sam? Are you all right?"

He shook his head slowly.

"Come here," she gestured him forward.

He sank to his heels in front of her, cheek on her belly and his hands to either side of her, gripping the cot.

With him bent like that, his shirt rode up and Kara could see most of his lower back. Her eyes couldn't help tracing the muscles along his spine down to where it disappeared into his pants and the curve of his ass. The appreciation turned to curiosity, when she noticed an odd pale pink line on his skin, crossing the small of his back. She frowned, looking more closely, realizing there were more, thinner lines and marks that were hardly visible at all.

Scars. He hadn't had them when he'd gotten into his Viper the day the Cylons came to New Caprica.

Thea comberd her fingers through his hair. "It's all right," she murmured. "It's going to be all right, Sam. You need to rest."

"No," he shook his head in adamant refusal against her stomach. "No sleep. No dreams. I-- I can't -- "

"Hush," she murmured, quieting him, her fingers rubbing the back of his neck. "You're exhausted. You haven't slept in days. I'm here. I'll watch over you, just like always."

He stirred reluctantly, and she coaxed him into curling up on the bed beside her. "Rest, while you can," she urged him, and pulled the thin blanket over his shoulders and caressed the side of his face before leaning down to kiss his cheek. "Sleep. And remember, you carry our love with you, always." She twined her fingers with his and brought his hand to her stomach. After a moment, he let out a long breath and his face smoothed out into something more relaxed, as his other hand loosened from the tight fist.

Kara turned away from the scene. She wasn't angry at Sam anymore, but she was furious with the Cylons. They'd clearly beat him, badly enough to scar. What else had they done to him that she couldn't see? He'd admitted to Roslin that he'd been broken and remade - was that what he meant?

But as she walked aimlessly toward the gym, she remembered the same expression of soul-tearing pain on Sam's face the night he'd drank himself unconscious, when the Tyrols had left for New Caprica. He'd been an oracle before the Cylons put their hands on him.

She told herself she shouldn't care anymore. Sam had made his choice; he was going to have a baby, for frak's sake, so it wasn't like it could get **more** over between them.

And yet, the image of those scars haunted her. What kind of choice had it been, if they'd tortured him into compliance?

She turned away from the gym and headed for the other cell, to do a little questioning of her own.


	16. Out of the Labyrinth and back to Sea

It felt like old times. It was almost two years ago, now, Kara realized, since she had sat down on the other side of the table from one of these Cylons. He returned her look in exactly the same way the other one had, as if he could see something she couldn't.

But at least this one wasn't dressed the same way; he was wearing a plain black t-shirt instead of that eye-burning green thing the first Leoben had worn.

They stared at each other in silence, and Kara felt her body tense up, remembering Leoben breaking his shackles and nearly killing her last time. But he didn't move, he just waited.

She broke the silence first. "What did you do to Sam?" she demanded.

"Nothing."

Her hand shot out and backhanded him hard across the face. "Don't lie to me," she spat at him, infuriated. "I saw the scars. He was hurt."

Leoben leaned back in his chair and regarded her calmly, not upset by her blow, as the mark faded slowly from his cheek. "You asked what I did; I did nothing. I knew he was a messenger of God and I would never harm him. None of my brothers, or the Sixes or the Eights hurt him. But the Ones and Fives kept him captive for most of the occupation. He was beaten and left in isolation for weeks at a time. We -- his friends -- were shown a hideously burned body and told it was Sam so we wouldn't try to get him back. At the end of the occupation, D'Anna found him, but tortured him to force him to find the path to Earth. Caprica and Sharon brought him home, and soon after, he and Thea became lovers." He regarded her unblinking, impassive to her growing dismay. "Is that what you wanted to know?"

"Oh, gods," she whispered, able to imagine it all too clearly. "Does she love him?"

He nodded. "Yes. She believes in him, and she loves him."

"And does he… love her?"

He took a moment to answer, having to think about it, and her stomach tightened up. Eventually, he answered, "He still wears your dog tag."

Kara pushed away the implication. "That doesn't mean anything. I saw him with her." Sam had smiled at the Cylon the way he had once smiled at Kara, and he held her hand and rested against her like she was the only thing holding him up.

Leoben frowned and cocked his head to one side, regarding her. "He cares deeply - how could he not? She has been his constant support from the day he was picked up in the depths of space. She has helped him when his visions tore through him like madness. They were given a miracle in the child to come. She makes him feel like more, not less. Those are all strong ties. But if you asked, he would cut them all for you."

Kara thumped down in the opposite chair. She searched Leoben's face, looking for the lie hidden in the truth, but saw only belief. She shook her head, "How can you say that?"

"Because it's true," he answered. "Because your destiny and his are entwined."

She chuckled and shook her head. "My destiny? You still on about that? It's Sam, not me."

He leaned forward, intent, and held her eyes. "You. Did you think it was done with, Kara? You haven't started yet."

She leaned back, away from him, and forced another chuckle. "You just can't help it, can you? Frakking oracle in the next room, and you still have to go on about some 'destiny.'"

He seemed to think a moment and licked his lips before he spoke. "On the planet, in the temple, there was a symbol of circles, nested inside each other, of yellow and blue and red."

That was impossible. She stared at him, shocked. "You're lying."

He shook his head once. "Ask anyone who was inside. It was there in several places. The Temple of Five. Sam said its true name was the Temple of Hopes." He leaned back in his chair and regarded her with a small smile. "You still think you're not involved in this, Kara? Because you are. Your part is yet to come, and it's very important that you do it. I fear Sam will try to take it from you, but this is your destiny, not his."

"Take it from me?" she asked in confusion. "How could he do that? What is it anyway?"

He admitted reluctantly, "I don't know. But whatever it is, Sam looked at those circles on the floor and he said he died there."

The words were like a splash of cold water in the face. "He saw his own death?" she whispered in horror. Gods. Everything he'd said to Roslin took on a horrible new meaning. "Are the gods that cruel?"

Leoben didn't answer at first, and his smile seemed kind, though somewhat amused. "Only if you believe death is cruel. But it's not the end of everything, only our awareness of this limited perception. Death is beautiful."

"Beautiful?" Gods, how had Sam put up with this for the last few months? She laughed. "That's funny coming from a Cylon who won't die."

He replied calmly, "We can die. Take us from resurrection range, and we're lost. We have nothing but the faint hope of rebirth in the cycle of time. But that's not true for you. Death should hold no fear for you, Kara." He leaned forward again, staring into her eyes. "Your fear holds you back. But facing it, you will be free to follow your destiny."

She made herself roll her eyes, ignoring the tangling in her chest that restricted her breath. "You know, if I wanted cryptic psychobabble I'd go visit the shrink on _Inchon Vale_." She stood up and planted her hands on the table. "I found out what I wanted to know. I won't be back."

He waited until she opened the door to call after her, "Running away doesn't change the truth, Kara. It never has."

She left, trying to shrug off what he'd said.

 

* * *

Walking the corridors of _Galactica_ felt strange now. Everywhere he went seemed to emphasize that he wasn't home. He wasn't a pilot, but he wasn't a civilian. He still had friends among the pilots, but he wasn't one of them anymore. He could still play Pyramid with Jean and Duck, as he had before, but it wasn't the same. Nobody knew what to make of him now; he wasn't the man he'd been and he couldn't forget what he knew or what he'd done.

But at least it was only awkward with the ones who liked him. As Simon had suggested, there were some who believed he was a collaborator and a traitor, and they shoved roughly past him or muttered under their breath whenever he was near.

They weren't the worse, though.

"Mister Anders? Lieutenant?"

He turned at the sound of the feminine voice, to find a woman he didn't know. She was about his age, and she was holding a tow-headed little girl in her arms. He made himself smile, reaching back to ten years of fan interaction, though he had a sinking feeling he knew what this was about. "Yes?"

"Hi," she swallowed nervously. "My name's Julia, this is my daughter, Kacey. I ... was wondering... They say you have a hybrid child on the way, that the gods led you to the Cylons to be their oracle and teach them peace. And that you were the reason they withdrew from New Caprica."

"I'm pretty sure it was the two battlestars jumping into the system that pushed them from New Caprica. It had nothing to do with me," he said and clenched his jaw on anything more. _Damn it, Bulldog, you didn't have to tell **everyone**._ "Don't believe everything you hear." He started to turn, eager to get away.

"But you are an oracle, aren't you?" she asked, more persistent than most in the face of his brush-off.

He halted and turned back, drawing a deep breath. "Look, I'd like to help, but I can't tell your future. That's not how it works for me."

"No, no," she said hastily. "I don't want to know my future. Who would? But it feels ... I don't know, it feels as if the gods are very close to us. That maybe they're walking among us now, and giving us all these oracles and prophecies and messages. Like we're coming up to the end of... everything. I suppose I wanted some kind of reassurance..." she trailed off and glanced down at her daughter, who was watching him with a child's curiosity. "You think I'm foolish," Julia murmured and ducked her head in embarrassment.

Kacey could be Iris, in a few years, he realized with a sudden pang, and he bit his lip.

"No, not at all. You're right," he agreed in a low voice. "We all have more trials to go through, before we find our destiny." He put out a hand and gently smoothed Kacey's hair, imagining stroking Iris' soon, and suddenly, he **knew**. "I ... I've seen Earth, Julia. I've seen our home. It's out there and Kacey will see it."

Julia lifted her face to meet his eyes, and her lips parted in wonder. "You know that? Really?"

"Really," he confirmed, and his smile was more natural as he pulled his hand back.

"Thank you," Julia said, holding Kacey tightly and her eyes bright with tears. "Thank you," she repeated with a whisper and rushed off down the corridor.

He watched her go, and his smile faded away. Kacey would live, that much was true. But it was also true that no one should know one's own future.

Another voice came on him from behind. "At least some people get good news."

Sam turned to find Galen standing there, dressed in his green BDUs and rubbing some small engine part with a cloth. "They'd still be alive, if I'd listened to you," Galen said. "Wouldn't they?"

The memory of the desperate words hung between them. "... _listen to me, please. I saw Cally in a pit full of bodies. I saw her dead if you go down to New Caprica_..." And Sam shut his eyes, remembering he had been the one to make the vision come true. Cavil had killed her and their baby, too, because of him. He whispered, "I'm sorry, Galen."

But Galen didn't hear him. "The Cylons wouldn't have killed them, if I'd believed you. I get that. But how could you know what they were going to do and still ally with them?"

"Only with a few of them," Sam answered. "They're not all the same, Galen."

Galen wasn't listening, but he seemed to be working his way to saying something, so Sam waited. Galen looked down at the metal casing he was cleaning. "You said you heard the Temple calling to you. A sound in your head..."

"Yes," he answered warily, wondering where Galen was going with this. "A sort of music. A really annoying buzz from far away, but more like a hum when we got in the system. It pulled me down to the surface, and I had to go. I can't really explain it better than that."

"I heard it," Galen admitted in a murmur. Sam nodded, slowly, now understanding. Galen was starting to remember, too. Galen added, "That's how I found it. What does it mean? I'm not... I'm not like you."

Sam glanced both ways down the narrow corridor to make sure no one was close, and he murmured, "You are, Galen. I'm just farther down the path." He remembered a blonde apparition with a wry smile. "And I have some help. But I saw you; I remember you. We were both there in the Temple of Hopes a long time ago. We built it, you and I. And we died there."

Galen's gaze snapped up to Sam's, and he shook his head. "That can't be. That's impossible."

"All this has happened before..." Sam reminded him. "We were there when the cycle turned, and now it's our time to try again."

Galen shook his head again in slow denial. "No. It's not true."

Sam gripped his arm. "I swear --"

Yanking himself free, Galen glared at him. "I don't believe in any of this. It's not **real**."

Sam didn't try to call him back when Galen stomped off. Galen would accept it, or he would keep fighting against it, but he wouldn't be able to hide from it for long.

Sam went back to Thea's cell to chase the past away and look to the future. He touched the taut belly reverently -- Iris would be his legacy. She would do what he could not and take their people to Earth.

Thea smiled up at him and laid her hand over his. "Soon. Just a few weeks and she'll be here, Sam. Our gift of God."

"It seems like we've been waiting forever." He bent down to nuzzle at her belly. "Iris, you can come out now. We want to see you!"

Thea laughed, and the joyful sound helped to push away the dread that weighed on him so heavily since the Temple visions. Each day with them was a gift, and he couldn't forget that.

 

* * *

 

Kara kept away from the brig, where Sam was spending most of his time. She heard about him from the Clellans, who had brought his namesake to visit, and she knew he played pyramid on the half-court Barolay had put in a empty storage locker, but she didn't go near, herself. And even though he left the brig occasionally, he seemed to be avoiding her, too.

She wasn't angry at him, but there seemed no reason to seek him out. She knew him well enough to know he would never abandon his child or that child's mother. So, Leoben's mystic crap aside, she and Sam were done.

But the Bucket wasn't that big, and eventually their paths crossed. When she saw him round a corner and head toward her, she felt an impulse to avoid him again, but pushed it down to face him. He hesitated, when he realized it was her, but kept going. His hair and black sleeveless shirt were both damp from sweat, and she guessed he'd been playing pyramid.

"You gonna hit me again?" he asked, when he was still several steps away.

She couldn't help a snicker. "Scared?"

He didn't play along, just gave a little shrug. "If you want." But he came closer anyway.

Kara frowned, wondering why something seemed different, then she realized he was limping. It was probably nothing anyone else would even notice, but she could tell. "What's wrong with your leg?"

He glanced down reflexively. "Nothing."

"You're limping."

"Oh, that." He looked up again, suddenly realizing. "I fractured my ankle and lower leg when I punched out. And... well, it never healed quite right. Cylon medicine is... an undeveloped science." He said it wryly, but his blue eyes held no amusement, and the faint smile vanished quickly. "It aches if I jump on it a lot, that's all. No big deal. I think my days of pro ball were pretty done with anyway."

"Can you still fly?" she asked.

He nodded. "I've flown a Raptor and Heavy Raider, so I think a Viper should be okay," he said, then reconsidered, "Maybe not a long CAP. That might be worse than standing up all those hours." He shrugged again. "Not that I'm getting back in a Viper any time soon, so it probably doesn't matter."

He had a point: Roslin had freed him, but Adama hadn't restored him to duty yet. "Because you have a Cylon girlfriend?" she retorted, unable to help herself.

He flinched but shot back, "Helo has a Cylon **wife** and he's in CIC."

"Sharon's on our side. But you were taking the Cylons to Earth," she said. "To Earth, Sam. That's supposed to be our refuge."

He couldn't meet her eyes. "I had no choice."

"And you had no choice but frak the Cylon, too, I suppose?"

He straightened, a spark of anger in his eyes which she perversely was glad to see, since his expression was so **dead** most of the time. "Yeah, I had a choice: I could hold onto her, or go insane. You don't know what it was like, you don't know what I --" But he cut himself off. The anger was gone as quickly as it had come and he inhaled an unsteady breath. "Look, I'm sorry I'm God's frakking hand puppet, but I am, and there's nothing I can do about that. And I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough to wait for you alone." He reached out a hand to touch her, but dropped it back down to his side, the gesture incomplete. He looked just as helpless as Kara felt. "I still love you, Kara - I do, and I always will. I hope you believe that. But... we never had a chance."

He turned away and she blurted, scarcely able to believe the words were coming out of her mouth, "Leoben says our destinies are entwined, you and me. That it's not over."

He turned his head, and somehow the angle of the light made his eyes look black and inhuman. He answered in a flat voice, with chilling calm, "He's wrong. I know how it ends."

"So you're just going to give up?" she demanded. "The future's not written in stone, Sam. There's a little boy with your name that proves that."

He took a sudden step toward her, looming over her. "Do you think this is easy?" he hissed. "Do you think I don't want to tell God to shove it and pretend I don't know? I do. Every single frakking day I want to be who I was. But I can't. Samuel T. Anders of the C-Bucs **died** when the Cylons came, and there's no going back."

His words hit her forcefully, as if there was some deeper truth in them. She regarded him with wide eyes. "Died?" she repeated. "You mean that?"

"No, not like that!" He shook his head and threw up both hands in frustration. "Frak, maybe it's true. Maybe I am what everyone's so afraid of. Would it matter so much?"

He stared down into her eyes, and she looked back unblinking. Her heart was pounding quickly, hard in her chest, and she wondered what answer to give him.

But something inside her knew the answer. She reached out, not sure what she was going to do, maybe hit him across the face. But instead, her hand grabbed him by the neck and pulled him down, as she went up on her toes.

Their mouths came together and his lips clung to hers, kissing her deeply, and she pushed against him, forgetting about everything else but the feel of him. He staggered back into the wall support, and his hands spanned her waist, steadying her. Her other hand went around his neck, too, fingers in his hair and rubbing along the top of his shoulders.

"Kara," he groaned against her mouth, and his hands slipped to her hips, hitching her up against him, to where they fit perfectly. "Oh, Kara... please..."

The feel of him against her was like a fire under her skin, and she wanted to touch him so badly... It felt like no time had passed at all, except to make her want it more. She grabbed a fistful of his shirt and tugged him around the corner, to the janitorial closet which reeked of oil and bleach, but it had a door that locked and an overhead light which was all she wanted.

She barely got the door locked when he pushed her back against the wall beside the door, and kissed her again. Gathering the hem, she yanked his shirt over his head and the feel of his skin was burning under her fingers. Gods, it had been so long... so long since she'd had him under her hands, and had the feel of his strength surrounding her.

They didn't speak as he pulled her tanks off, and she unbuttoned his pants so they'd fall down his legs. All she knew was that she wanted to climb him like a tree and frak him so hard, he never forgot her again. She had to clutch the upper shelving as he held her hips and positioned her, but the feel of him when she slid over him was worth it. He groaned from the bottom of his lungs, and his hands gripped her tightly.

"Oh, God, I've missed you," he whispered, panting, his eyes shut as he pinned her against the shelf, deep in her. She didn't answer back, letting her body speak for her, as she let herself sink into him, not thinking, only feeling.

And if she were honest with herself, re-staking her claim.

When they were shuddering down from climax, he didn't let go of her or pull out. His head was bowed, and when she dropped her cramping hands to his shoulders, he was shaking. Not all of it was because he was trying to breathe.

And even though she felt all bruised in the lower back from hitting the shelf, and her thighs ached from holding her legs around him, she didn't want to move either. So strange ... it was like her vision of the temple with him frakking her against the column, but different. Real.

As she caught her breath, she plucked a damp lock of his hair off his neck and wound it around her finger. "So. It's over, is it?"

He laughed shortly, but with real humor. "Yeah, that was me keeping my distance."

"I can tell," she teased.

He freed one hand to caress the curve of her hip and her thigh, his touch soft now, where before it had been all need and desire. She let herself enjoy it for a moment, until her back twinged and she had to shift against the shelving. That was enough to end the moment. He inhaled a deep breath, gathering himself together, and pulled away finally. He eased her to the floor and handed her paper towels from a stack on the shelf to clean up with, without meeting her eyes. She shivered in the sudden cold, now that the warmth from his body was gone.

When he bent over to pull up his pants, it gave her a view of his back and the pale lines on his skin. There were more than she had thought. She reached out to the worst one, the touch making him flinch, but then he froze to let her trace the thin ridge of scar tissue. "Who did this?" she whispered. "Who hurt you like this, Sam?"

"Doral and Cavil," he answered and shuddered. He yanked down his shirt, making her move her hand, and the scars were soon hidden from view again.

But that was all he said, as they dressed, and she found the lack disconcerting. If he tried to apologize or say it could never happen again or even say they should do it again, she could respond that it was just a frak and didn't mean anything.

But in the face of his silence, what it meant seemed to press down on them. He should've been the one to pull away. She was the reckless one, the one with no attachments; he was the loyal one, whose girlfriend was carrying his child just down the hall. But he hadn't stopped.

When he finally looked at her, she could see the guilt on his shoulders and in his face. His eyes still seemed to drink her in, pull at her with need. It took him a moment to speak. "I... don't regret this," he said, even though his eyes made the words a lie. Or maybe they weren't such a lie as he continued, "I would give anything to have what I want," he murmured, and she almost wanted to flee from the intensity in his eyes. "If I could go back to you and me flying CAP forever, I would. You... make me feel so alive, Kara. You always have. When you're around, I remember how to be human. And I want that. So much."

She swallowed, struck by the words and knowing how deeply he meant them. Whatever he felt for Thea, it wasn't this. Leoben had been right. While the thought of having that kind of pull on Sam was sort of heady and satisfying, it was also disturbing. She wanted to say that making him feel human had to be a good thing, but maybe it wasn't. He'd led the Cylons across hundreds of light-years of space on the strength of his visions, and he'd lost the path to Earth the minute he came on the same ship with her.

"But I can't," he added after a moment. "I've seen... " his gaze turned inward and flickered with dark memories, and his voice hoarsened, "I've seen terrible things from the last time we had this chance... I know what being selfish would cost."

Without heat, and with far too much understanding, she murmured, "Damn you anyway, Sam. Why couldn't you just have stayed a pyramid player and fought Cylons, instead of getting Zeus' hand up your ass?"

He snorted a surprised laugh. "Yeah, and it's just as much fun as you'd think."

Silence fell again and she let out a painful-sounding chuckle. "You're forcing me to be responsible. I hate that."

He nodded. "I know." His hand fell to the dog tag at his chest, and for a moment she feared he was going to give hers back. "All these people, they depend on us," he murmured, holding the tag. "Humans and Cylons. We have to break the cycle of war and death and hatred. When I find the path, you'll need to take them all home."

"Home?" she asked softly. "I want to see that."

"You will," he answered and smiled at her. Not his usual bright grin, but a soft, glowing expression of love, and he looked at her face for a long moment, as if memorizing it.

Though she wanted to bask in it, she felt a cold trickle of fear between her shoulder-blades. "Sam, don't do anything stupid."

"You know me," he tried to shrug casually, but she didn't buy it.

"I do."

"Yeah, you do." He bent and pressed a swift kiss to her lips, murmuring, "I love you." His fingers brushed her cheek and a moment later, he was gone.

She put her fingers to her lips, trying to hold the touch to herself, stricken by the feeling that his kiss tasted like farewell.

 

* * *

The cell had become more homey, as Adama had allowed curtains and a box to put their clothes in. Sam rarely slept there since the cot was so small and Thea had grown large, but it usually felt welcoming to him.

Except now. He'd showered off what he'd done, and it hadn't helped. He stayed near the door, even after the guards shut it behind him, and he felt like an intruder.

Thea was sitting crosslegged on the bed, and even though he'd found a new shirt for her, it didn't cover her rounded belly completely. Underneath that pale skin was the miracle he had very nearly thrown away because he couldn't keep his hands to himself. God, what was he going to do?

She glanced up from dealing herself a hand of solitaire and smiled. "Come in. Play triad with me?"

"Sure." He sat at the other end of the bed, feeling small and guilty.

She dealt the cards and then stopped him from picking them up, with a hand on his. "Sam? What's wrong? Did something happen?"

"No," he answered, feeling sick from the lie. "Nothing."

"Did you have a vision?" she asked, in concern. "You seem very bothered by something."

"I... I don't know what it was," he answered.

She picked up her cards and arranged them in her hand, but then she lifted her eyes again. "You've been very quiet since the Temple. It's obviously troubling you. Why don't you tell me what you saw?"

"It's my burden, not yours," he repeated what he'd said before when she and Leoben had asked. They were his visions and his fate, and there was nothing the Cylons could do about either of those things.

She shook her head once. "It's my burden, too, Sam. I'm with you; Iris is with you. I think if you would talk about it, it might help." She hesitated, then put her cards on the blanket, with a determined expression he recognized. "I was there. I heard what you said and I know what it means. It's not a secret."

The jolt of panic and guilt that went through him was probably visible from the other end of the ship; he was sure she didn't miss it. "Tell you what?" he asked lamely, and he knew they both knew it was an evasion.

She gave a little sigh and beckoned him close for a kiss. He tried to say he was sorry with his lips, to give himself back to her. Then she pulled him into her arms, triad cards scattering, and she whispered into his ear, "You're one of the Final Five."

His whole body went rigid with shock. She knew. When he tried to pull away, she held onto him tightly and murmured, "Did you think it would change how I feel? Or do you really think it's so terrible that you have to keep it locked up inside you all this time? It's not terrible, Sam; it's wonderful." One of her hands ran up and down his back, soothing, trying to get him to relax. "It doesn't change anything," she reassured him and then pulled back a little bit to look him in the eyes. "It doesn't change my love. Nothing you learned in that Temple could do that."

"I saw so much, but I don't understand," he admitted in a whisper, putting his head on her shoulder. "I have all these memories, these things I saw, but they don't make a pattern. But the thing they all have in common is..." He opened his mouth to say '_his death_', but then said, "I think I'm being punished for something."

"Punished? For what? What could you possibly have done that could be so terrible?" she asked. "You're a good man, Sam."

He remembered frakking Kara in the janitor's closet not even two hours ago and let out a shaky laugh. "No. No, I'm not, Thea. I'm selfish and I lie, and I remember causing so much death and ruin...."

She grabbed his hand, squeezing it. "Sam, they were visions, not you. And even if it was a past life, it wasn't you now."

He wanted to object that he knew it was him, but instead he gathered her close and kissed her hair. "I don't deserve your faith in me, Thea."

"Would a bad person be agonizing over something he might have done in a past life?" she asked, with a small smile, and laid a finger over his lips. "Enough. You can't convince me otherwise."

He could. He could open his mouth and tell her the truth -- and watch the light dim in her eyes. So he swallowed the truth and his guilt, and resolved to make it up to her and Iris.

* * *

The baby looked absurdly tiny in his hands. She was all wrinkled and reddish, with skinny little arms and legs, and a smushed up face below a dusting of dark hair.

But then her eyes opened and blinked up at Sam.

"Hello, Iris," he whispered. She looked at him with her large crystal blue eyes and blinked again.

"You are a gift," he told her. "A miracle." His voice broke on the word, as a great wave rose up inside him, love so great and intense it was painful. His ribs seized up and he couldn't breathe. He kissed the top of her head and carefully laid her back in Thea's arms, before kissing Thea again. "You are both so beautiful to me."

He swallowed hard, trying to choke back the tears burning in his eyes. He turned and went blindly from the room, nearly tearing down the plastic curtains in his need to get away.

"Sam?" he heard Helo ask, worried. "What's wrong?"

But Sam pushed past him, making it as far as the corner. He folded his arms against the wall and leaned his head into them, and tried to breathe, as love and grief and rage tore at him from inside.

Shaking, he gulped air, trying to bury it all again, a little afraid of the intensity of what boiled just under his skin.

"Sam?" Karl asked and put a friendly hand on his shoulder.

"I can't -- I can't -- " he gasped.

"Let it out, it's okay," Karl murmured and rubbed the back of his neck gently.

Sam shook his head desperately, but couldn't tell him. He couldn't force the words out to explain, to say what he knew. How he'd thought he was resigned to his fate, but seeing Iris, he knew he wasn't.

Iris began to cry behind him, a thin wail that seemed to pierce right through him, as if she was crying in response to his thoughts. She quieted almost immediately as Thea and Ishay murmured.

That, in conjunction with Helo's soothing gesture, let him finally calm down and drag in new breaths. He wiped wet eyes with one hand and straightened.

"Better?" Helo asked.

"Yeah, thanks."

"Sure. Hybrid parents club meeting tonight if you want to join," he joked.

Sam gasped a little laugh and smiled weakly. "We should. Gotta stick together."

Helo looked him in the eye and said more seriously, with a squeeze of Sam's shoulder, "Anything you need, let me know. I'm here for you."

"Thanks. I - we - appreciate that."

Helo gestured back toward the delivery room, with a smile, "Congratulations. Now, go on back to your little miracle. She needs you."

That struck him, sharp in the chest, but Sam kept his face blank until he turned away and headed back.

Iris was already nursing, Sam saw, and couldn't help marveling at the sight of a Cylon with a baby at her breast. His baby. The thought caught at his heart again, and he swallowed hard.

Ishay was showing Thea how to hold and position the baby. She didn't seem to be treating Thea any differently than she would any other new mother, which he was glad about.

Sam pulled up a chair to watch, and Thea smiled at him, tired but loving. "You okay?" she asked.

"Fine. I just didn't expect to love her so much already," he murmured, reaching out to feather a touch of the tiny foot and its even tinier toes sticking out from the blanket.

Cottle came back in with a clean coat on, and took a look at the new family with a distinctly approving and paternalistic gleam in his eyes. "Well done, both of you," he said, nodding. "You'll stay in here a few days, at least, while we keep an eye on you both. I'm going to report to the admiral, and do rounds." He got halfway to the plastic and then turned back. "There are guards at the door. The Admiral ordered no visitors except senior officers. So if you want that Cylon Leoben to be able to visit you'll need to ask the admiral."

Sam jumped up and followed him. "Doctor?" He glanced around to check they were alone, noting the two nurses still cleaning up in the corner. "You're sure Iris is all right?"

"She's a perfectly healthy baby," Cottle answered. "She'll have to do some time under UV light, but that's normal."

"Oh, when you said you want to keep her here a few days - "

"If she leaves here, she's going back to that cell," Cottle reminded him.

Sam nodded, feeling cold. "Oh, I didn't think -- thank you. So, uh, you didn't find anything… weird?" he asked hesitantly, glancing again at the nurses within earshot.

"Nothing," Cottle confirmed. "Of course, I haven't done any in depth analysis, but so far, she appears nothing more extraordinary than any newborn."

Sam couldn't help smiling at that, since Cottle didn't know how extraordinary Iris truly was. "Good, I'm glad," Sam said. "Thank you."

"That's what I'm here for," Cottle told him brusquely and moved away.

Sam went back to Thea and Iris, to sit beside them and soak up their presence.

For as long as he could.

 

_The end._

 

* * *

  
To be concluded in **Not All That We Are 4: Black Sails at Dawn**

Thank you for reading.

If you enjoyed the story, please spare a moment and tell me so! It'd make my day...


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